Uplifted: Arrival
by DarkDanny
Summary: The fronts may hold, but in the Greater German Reich, the battle for the Fatherland's soul is now nearly into its third month. As two simultaneous wars are waged across occupied Europe, and the quarian admiralty prepare their people for their new home on Earth, a third war has begun. National Socialists beware: Joachim Hoch has got you in his crosshairs...
1. Two Month's Later

**Welcome to Uplifted: Arrival**

**In previous installments of the story, I have time and time again been asked why I haven't upped the ratings of those stories to M. Well this story will be the reason why those stories are rated T….**

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**Chapter One: Two Months later: April 20th, 1943**

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**"UNTIE ME THIS INSTANT! UNTIE ME NOW, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"**

He wasn't sure how this had happened. He had been expecting colleagues to take him and his wife to the National Socialist strongholds in North Germany. As he had opened the door for his guests, the stock of a rifle greeted him, knocking him unconscious. How long ago that had been, Obergruppenführer Oswald Pohl was could not say for certain. All he knew now was he was awake. He lying in his bedroom, his face undoubtedly bruising and now unable to move.

He had been tied to his bed. Oh God… What had he ever done to deserve this!

As he struggled against the ropes, the creaking of his door caught his attention. The door closed behind whoever the room now contained. The lights suddenly were flipped on.

Rotating his head, he took in the sight of what appeared to have been his captor with his back turned to him. He was a giant dressed in Wehrmacht officer's uniform, his long coat draped on the doorknob. He was pulling on a pair of gloves. From here Pohl could see the markings on the man's collars: He was an Oberst.

His struggling finally made the man turn around. Behind a very against regulation mountain man beard, that covered heavy facial scaring, was a sneer as sharp as the blue eyes which now glared down on him. He looked like the devil possessed him in the way he carried himself.

That was when he realized what was draped over the front of the Heer uniform.

It was a Butcher's apron.

He felt the bed press down as the huge man crumpled the bed springs; He reached into his pocket to produce SS identification papers. The man, who looked like he was living in the mountains, grinned menacingly as he looked from the identification papers to his victim.

"Obergruppenführer Oswald Pohl. Born 30th of June, 1892 divorced, onto your second wife, who is downstairs, a son, Ortwin in the Waffen-SS, even a daughter, Nortraut, an adult now," the giant rumbled as he tore up the papers that apparently belonged to the Obergruppenführer. "You are head of the _SS-Wirtschafts-Verwaltungshauptamt_ - the SS Main Economic and Administrative Department. You deal primarily in the confiscation of concentration camp inmates valuables. You take their wedding rings, their wallets, their jewelry…. Even their gold fillings, which I have regretfully seen first-hand now."w."

The Wehrmacht Oberst reached out, his hand grabbing Pohl by his neck as he leaned forward to sneer directly in his face.

"I know this because I was summoned to a liberated SS controlled bank not a month ago," he growled, his teeth bared like an attack dog. "There were piles of wedding rings, jewelry, and yes, even gold fillings just waiting to be melted down. "The moment I saw that, I knew I was coming after you as soon as I spotted you… and it appears your time is up. You are little better than a thief under government mandate, aren't you? No… Not a thief… worse than a thief… you're a fucking grave robber… I imagine the missus is decorated in Jew gold, isn't she?"

All Pohl could do was sputter as he struggled against the steel grip the Oberst held against his windpipe. After several moments of increasing pressure, he let go, allowing Oswald a moment of wheezing breathing to bring him back to a clear mind. If that didn't bring him back then the sudden, resounding slap to the face did the trick.

"No, I don't steal... All valuables go towards funding the war effort!" He furiously denied.

His answer had no standing with the brute; Pohl was slapped again, even harder this time. This time the man laughed. It was the scariest laugh Pohl had ever heard. Both his hands wrapped around the SS general's shirt collars. His expression was that of pure loathing.

"Well… if that's your reasoning, then I think it's about time that you contributed to the war effort."

His hands moved up; one hand gripping him by his palate, the other by his mandible, with little resistance he pried it open and looked closer, inspecting Pohl's teeth as though he had been a dentist by trade before the war. The expression of seriousness turned into a smile as he pulled his right hand out of Pohl's mouth.

"It appears that you have a bit of gold yourself," He informed Pohl, still smiling like it was his birthday. "I know your underlings wait until they are dead, but for you, I think I could make an exception…"

Reaching into one of his belt kits, he opened it removed a pair of pliers. He dangles it as though it was a baby's toy. Oswald's eyes widened as he tried to scream through the steel grip of this fucking psychotic's hand. With all his might he bit hard at his hand, only to recoil in pain by just how strong it was. The lunatic did not flinch. Not in the slightest. Instead he turned hand into a fist, and then wedged open his mouth.

The pliers inched closer and closer. This was on purpose, the psychological effects of knowing what was going to happen was even more devastating than the actual event…

"W-Where's my wife," he whimpered, his eyes begging his torturer. "She's going to hear this. She can't… can't…"

He didn't even blink.

"Downstairs, gagged and deafened," was the Wehrmacht Oberst's response, his words nearly nonchalant "I'm not a monster, I just deal with them. Last thing I would want is for her to listen to what happens next."

The pliers wrapped around one of the back molars. A look of satisfaction crossed his expression as he took in Pohl's expression of terror.

With all his might, he pulled the molar and pliers back towards him. He did not twist and pull. He simply broke the tooth right out of the Obergruppenführer's mouth, pulling bits of Pohl's gums out with it, his blood splashed against the Wehrmacht man's apron. Pohl screamed, he screamed and screamed as the pain shot through his body like he had been dismembered. The blood caught in his throat and mouth, turning the scream into a gurgling cry that would haunt the Wehrmacht men downstairs nightmares.

The torturer did not react. He looked at the tooth, then to the gold. Idly he dropped the molar and pliers to the ground. He pulled himself away and, tilting Pohl's head to the side so that he did not drown in his own blood, he left the SS General's side. Pohl watched as he slicked his hand through his slightly longer then regulation hair.

Quietly he took a seat across the room from Pohl and slumped, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared blankly at his bleeding victim. He scoffed as he sat back and reached into his jacket, pulling out a gold cigarette case.

"In the past few months, I have come to learn a hard truth, Herr Pohl: In order to beat your kind, I have to be as cold and unfeeling as you." The Oberst said as he lit a cigarette and placed the case back into his jacket. "I spent two months being tortured by the Gestapo. I tried to be above them, but I know now how naive I have been. I believed in a just God. I did not worship, but I did pray privately. I prayed to Him for twenty years now and never wavered in my private faith in a Saviour. But now I know that no just God would permit what I've seen your kind do to others… to me. To the people I love."

He inhaled his cigarette, staring off past the Pohl as he moaned as shuffled against his restraints.

"I realize now, if I have to sacrifice my own morality to make every last one of you fucking assholes pay for everything you've done, then it's a small price I'll gladly pay," he said with his cigarette still in his lips, blowing smoke out of his nose. He pulled the cigarette out as he leaned forward, adding, "I have no one. NO ONE left I answer to. Not my Father, not my Mother... I have no one who will talk me out of my new course anymore. So I'll deal with the consequences of my actions when I'm done purging your types out of the Fatherland."

The brooding Wehrmacht man blew smoke into Pohl's direction.

"Ernst Kaltenbrunner was right about me," he muttered to himself. "I'll be the most hunted man in the world when the smoke clears and what is left of you all realize what Joachim Hoch had done to them."

Oswald froze. His pain subsided as he realized now just who this bastard was. He was the traitorous SS officer who had murdered the Führer! Joachim Hoch was sitting across from him, torturing him! That bastard, that cowardly piece shit!

Inhaling his cigarette, Joachim Hoch stood up and stretched. He turned his back on him as he went towards the door.

"So like you I'll kill and torture," he said as he opened the door and stepped through it. "The only difference between us will be our victims. Yours didn't deserve it. Mine will."

As quickly as he exited the room, he was back in, closing the door. He stood there, leaning against the exit, finishing off his cigarette before dropping it and stamping his boot on it.

"Ab… ab I und' 'rrest?" Pohl attempted to slur out. Each word burned like hot embers.

Hoch stared at him blankly, and then he started to laugh.

_"Arrest?"_ He repeated delightfully as he shook his head.

Hoch took two steps forward.

_*thump, thump, scraaaap…*_

Pohl wiggled his head to get a better view at the source of the noise. There, being dragging on the ground was an axehead, its handle limply grasped in Hoch's hand. Pohl moaned and struggled against the binding of rope. He screamed out as he tried to stop Hoch, he ignored his own pain as he cried out again and again until Hoch was standing over the bed, looking down on the SS General.

"You still mistake why I'm here, Herr Pohl." Hoch growled lowly, "You see… I'm no policeman, and frankly I'm done giving free passes to your types. No." He said, shaking his head to reveal the axe to the man. "I'm taking this axe here, I will chop right here," The blade of the axe touched against his neck, "And present your head to your colleagues so that they are convinced to surrender peacefully. Greater good you see. Kill one; spare dozens of lives in an unnecessary fire fight."

Hoch pulled the blade of his axe from off Pohl's neck. The General sobbed as he stared up at his executioner. His eyes filled with tears that did not make Hoch change his mind in the slightest.

"Good bye, Oswald Pohl," was his finally words. "The world is better off without you."

With all his might, Joachim Hoch swung down hard.

**…**

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**…**

"Keelah, I cannot believe I'm actually doing this. Tell me it's all just a bad dream."

"I'm afraid not, daughter. If you are so eager to become Saleb's personal guardian, then you have start doing the things she wants to do. If that means you have to spend hours on end with gossiping mothers with nothing better to do, then by the Ancestors, you will do it."

Under her breath, Hanala'Jarva grumbled mutinously as she wrapped her head dress over her short hair. As she looked in the mirror to poke at the facial scars, she could see behind her that mother was crossing her arms. There was a slight smirk on her face as she listened to her daughter muttering to herself.

"Welcome to motherhood, Hanala." She said smugly, watching Hanala buckle at the statement, "Doing things that you hate, but your children love is the cornerstone to the job. Where your only reward is if you do it properly your child won't tell you that they hate you ten or twenty years down the line…. Now go and get Saleb, we have a shuttle to catch."

Inwardly Hanala'Jarva groaned as her mother's statement made her forgo any further fights against her new duties as a guardian… adoptive mother to her orphaned niece. Still… she was right. It would be difficult. It would be made more difficult when Saleb finally understood the exact reason why she was in her Aunt's care in the first place.

It had been just over ten days now that the adoption was legalized. Since returning back to the fleet shortly after the catastrophe that cost one hundred and twenty quarians lives including her brother and sister-in-law, Hanala had decided to make things right. She would do so by first off asking Saleb if she would like to live with her aunt shortly after having to break the heart-breaking loss to a four year old.

Of course this this wasn't an immediate process. Since the Earth month of February, Saleb had lived with her Grandmother while Hanala spent the months learning how to take care of a child. Something she had no experience doing, nor had she ever planned on having. Priorities shifted when one was to blame for the deaths of Saleb's parents. Now she was comfortable with having Saleb living on the Bismarck with (though, mother did spend nights there as an extra small comfort for her granddaughter.)

Rolling her eyes at her mother, Hanala left her company and heading down out of the Admiralty lounge set up for her, went to Saleb's bedroom. The room was mostly unused. Saleb spent most of her nights clutched to her auntie. It helped her sleep so Hanala was more than happy to oblige that, even if it would cost her own rest.

Although she hated dealing with the stupidity of other parents, who invariably criticized her handling of Saleb once she got brought the guardianship to the public, she was getting used to this whole parenting thing. It was different from giving orders, or dating someone. It was always surprising what the worst day of her life had brought out in her.

Knocking twice and waiting, Hanala opened the door and stepped in quietly.

There sat Saleb, quietly, alone. Her outfit was a simple dress, a braid tied into her hair haphazardly. It was a Ka'Zetta –a hair barrette usually worn by a bride on the day of her marriage. One that Hanala knew belonged to Veyare. One that one day Veyare would have passed along to her daughter, as her mother passed it on to her.

Smiling softly, Hanala entered the room, earning a look from the child. Hanala remained silent as she sat down next to the child. Her hands reached up, and much to Saleb's protesting squawk, she pulled the Ka'Zetta out. Not for long however, she pushed it back into her hair, getting it in just right, the side of her hair now pushed up to reveal the girls ear as it was meant to. Smiling Hanala leaned in and kissed the girl on the cheek. She flinched.

"Are you ready to go?" She enquired as she stood back up.

Turning back to her, she found Saleb staring into her lap, her fingers laced together, slowly she shook her head.

"I don't want to go," She spoke, softly looking into her lap as though she was going to be in a heap of trouble, "I'm not feeling well."

Still smiling to the child, Hanala pressed her hand to her forehead. There was no sign of being ill. She did not need to break out her omni-tool diagnostic programs to know the child was not up to the little visit.

Hanala bent down onto her knees.

"I'll let you in on a little secret…. Neither do I." Hanala admitted coyly, doing her best to offer the girl a mischievous smile "I've been sick all day as well. The thought of having to sit with a bunch of blabbermouths while you get to have all the fun is a nightmare. You think we should tell Grandma to go away? I could issue her an Admiralty order and have her banished to maintenance work in the air ducts…"

Saleb nodded her head with much more enthusiasm. She liked the plan. Hanala giggled slightly as she clasped her cheek, allowing her fingers to graze the side of her niece's face.

"Well, we cannot do that," Hanala continued, ignoring the pout being offered by the child. "See, we have obligations you and I. We've hidden away for quite some time now. All your little friends are going to wonder where you are. Don't you want to see them? Do you not want to play with them?"

Saleb shook her head, making Hanala bite her lip. She really did not want to force the child into doing something she didn't want to do. It felt to her that Mother was trying to push her granddaughter into a state of normalcy without understanding that Saleb was never going to know normal until much later in life. The loss of her parents was not going to be a vague memory. Blurry given her age, but it would remain to be a huge gaping hole in her life.

Perhaps this was the way Mother grieved, to push everyone around her back into doing things that were considered normal. Her good intentions were her own selfish desires to hide away from the fact that her favourite child and the daughter she wished she could have was dead and she was now stuck with… well… Hanala.

Hanala shook her pessimistic thoughts away. She instead stood back up; both hands now touching each side of Saleb's face.

"I think you and I owe them a little visit -just a little one," She said, amending her statement as Saleb pouted even harder. "We'll leave when you want to leave. Then we'll have fun. I'll get us some sweets, we'll watch vids and I'll tell funny and scary stories about that big scary monster for the rest of the day. But only if we go first… Deal?"

Saleb looked at her aunt, debating the answer.

"Alright… Please don't be too scary." Saleb said her tone sweetly nervous as she took her aunt's hand and pushed herself off the side of the bed.

Hanala nodded as she suppressed her laughter.

For the most part, the transition to a new guardian was going pretty well, all things considered. Saleb and she had been getting along well. A little quiet, but not bad, the real matter came to the other important personal relationship.

Joachim Hoch.

Or as Saleb called him: _Big Scary Monster_. It would have been cute too if Joachim was still in a stable mental state. He did not take that innocent gaffe well. It took Hanala standing in front of the child to circumvent his annoyance before it could quickly escalate into something worse.

There was no doubt that Joachim Hoch was mentally ill at the moment. During the time Joachim was placed into isolation, he was placed under a suicide watch after the physician found him staring at his pistol a little too fixated on it. Hanala tried her best to delude herself into believing that the doctors were being overly cautious, but in the back of her mind, she knew better. She knew how devastating what had happened had been to him. She may not have mourned for Gerald for obvious reasons, but she did for Lene and the family. If she wanted to curl up into a ball and die when she thought about how they found the Langers, she could never in a million years understand the amount of agony that was probably still tearing Joachim apart.

With his extreme guilt and grief plaguing him, he simply wanted nothing to do with Hanala's issues; neither could she really blame him for not thinking about her own losses on that day. It was expected that he wouldn't be willing to help shoulder them for her benefit. Not when he was this devastated. Not when he was this vulnerable. Not when he had been led to falsely believe that this had happened because of him.

When the smoke had cleared, the SS had destroyed everything, absolutely everything in his life. They did not stop at the Langer's, they torched the Langer's possessions in Germany and Austria, they burned down the home Hanala and Joachim shared outside of Berlin, they drained out all the accounts Joachim and the Hoch family had, even the Langer's just in case, leaving him broke. They had burned down his home in Potsdam, they even torched what was left of the Hoch home in Kiel and knocked over the gravestones that belonged to each member of his immediate family –His brothers and his parents. Apparently a fitting punishment for doing what was right.

He was now on the top of National Socialism's hit list; most likely higher then Rundstedt and the other Generals, for what he agreed to do on behalf of the Admiralty. If the Quarians pulled their support and left, the military leadership would have to be spared by the Nazis, especially when the rebelling military men were the best tacticians and field commanders the country had. Hoch, on the other hand, would meet a gruesome end. So it came as no surprise to her that Joachim ad turned into an unemotional rock since the fateful day. All things considered, it was probably for the best he was this way.

Now, just because she thought it was for the best, did not mean that it didn't bother her. It had happened when she approached him and told him she had filed the proper documents for a legal custody of Saleb. It was a decision she wanted to make with him. Although he had no legal standing in the eyes of the Quarians, she wanted him there at her side, being an uncle to the child. Perhaps it would help cool his bubbling anger from bursting onto the people who wronged him.

Instead of the desired effect, he instead took it as an ultimatum, to forget his rage and his desire for revenge and to settle down. It was something that he might have wanted not that long ago, but with the death of the Langer's a fresh wound, he could not accept the chance for relative peace she presented him.

Joachim all but ended things between them there and then; just as he had after the ultimatum and the news she had been deceiving him, he told her to not make contact with him. It was not the end. It was a pause in the relationship, the silence between the two of them lasting now for nearly three months.

When the doctors decided he was stable enough to end suicide watch, Joachim left the medical observation, took several Quarian firearms and headed back to Earth. There was no goodbye. He was simply gone. She could not judge him. If she had no obligations, she would have done the exact same thing –Whether Joachim wanted her there or not. But Like Joachim had once been before her, she too was sick of death. So instead she would finish the final repairs of his Cruiser and prepare her people for joining humanity on Earth.

So for now they parted ways. Hanala trying her best to be a mother figure to a girl who didn't deserve to be an orphan; And Joachim, who was off doing Ancestors knows what… Most likely taking lives.

Finding her mother standing in the shuttle bay, Hanala shook her thoughts away from Joachim and back to the situation at hand. She loosened her grip on Saleb's hand, only to have Saleb tighten hers. Hanala took the hand once again and led them down to Mother.

With any luck, this would be her first step back into the world that had been shattered by Hanala's foolish rescue attempt. She could only hope that one day; this sweet little girl clutching her hand like she was one of Joachim's Hoch's saints would still care for her despite what happened that fateful February day.

Even if Saleb could find forgiveness for what happened, Hanala knew that nothing would ever wash away her newfound self-loathing...

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Climbing out of the back of the Opel Blitz Truck he was sitting in, Soldat Harold Braunbeck slicked back his hair as he pulled on his Stahlhelm. Slinging his Kar98k over his shoulder, he went to join the full company made mostly up of new recruits like him. This would be their first official assignment, attached to Generalleutnant Helmuth Weidling's 86th infantry.

They were just outside of the city of Darmstadt. Like most of southwest Germany, it was primarily in the hands of the Wehrmacht, although that did not stop SS attacks and a civilian National Socialist terrorist group known as Werwolf –set up, trained, supplied and funded by both the Waffen-SS and, as rumour had it the Italians, who remained tersely allied with the new German government, but just as likely it would not be for long. With the Führer gone and Mussolini despising the treachery of the German high command, they were allies out of necessity now. If the Germans in Africa pulled out, Italy was doomed. If Italy fell, it provided the Anglo-Saxons and Americans a doorway into the Reich.

Just like he had said before, they were now allies of necessity.

_"Company, fall in!"_

The company fell into formation before the gathered officers, standing on the makeshift parade grounds. There appeared to be several leaders to the new arrivals. They broke apart, most of them heading to the front of the house where the crying was coming from, leaving behind the highest ranking man -A one eyed Oberst who stood silent as he inspected the company of mostly green soldiers. Hauptmann Horst Kleiner stepped forward to introduce the unit and exchange salutes with the officer.

As Kleiner stepped back to join his company, the Oberst stepped forward. His one eye narrowed as he looked over his men carefully. There was a flash of displeasure. He probably hadn't anticipated a unit whose median age was 19 years old. Boys compared to him. If he was angry, he did not say anything.

"Welcome to your first day in the 438th Mechanized Infantry, Kampfgruppe Hoch northern group," he greeted them, his voice raised now. "Our southern group is being pulled out of Algeria inside the week. We will be three thousand men strong by the time their deployment is completed-"

The screams intensified from inside the home. It sounded like bloody murder. The Oberst standing in front of them paid the interruption no mind. The company, on the other hand, sure did.

"I am Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg. I am this unit's commandant's second-in-command," the eye patch wearing colonel informed them over top of the strange noises, "Together we will be cleaning the Greater German Reich out of stubborn National Socialists and SS holdouts. This will not be an easy job. It appears that most of the Waffen-SS is now swinging in the direction of Himmler. If they come back we will have serious fight on our hands. One to which the Wehrmacht will not be able to send heavy support. We need all of our equipment situated on the front lines. As such we will most likely be reduced to obsolete armour to face our foe."

Kleiner raised his hand. Stauffenberg turned to face the Leutnant.

"Herr Stauffenberg? Forgive me for the interjection, but why are there two Oberst's for one Kampfgruppe?"

"We are Kampfgruppe in name only," was the Oberst's response. "It is simply a matter of legacy; we are, in actuality, a temporarily understrength regiment with two battalions instead of a standard three. I command Battalion 2, Waffen-SS Obersturmbannführer Joachim Peiper commands Battalion 1… And yes, twenty percent of Battalion 1 is made up of Waffen-SS troops that have broken off of the 1st SS Liebstandarte Panzer Grenadier Division. Speaking of which…."

Marching caught the company's attention. Some could not help it, they turned their heads to look, Harold included. Sure enough, marching down the road towards them came a small unit of what appeared to be Waffen-SS troops. They turned towards the new company and came to a halt at their side. The company commander, Hauptmann Werhner Cranz swore under his breath as he broke rank to confront the new arrivals.

The Hauptmann received no attention from the Waffen-SS, who's smug and arrogant attitudes remained despite the situation they were in. It took Oberst von Stauffenberg clearing his throat to catch the Hauptmann's attention once again. Realizing it was futile to remain confrontational; Hauptmann Cranz left and marched back in front of his company.

"Joining you the rest of you will be seventy members of the 6th SS Mountain Division Nord. They were on leave during the uprising and decided that it was best if they serve the country and not the fallen Führer. They have taken an extraordinary risk to end their loyalties to the SS." Stauffenberg spoke, praising the new arrivals. "Together you will form the base for Battalion 3. Until your numbers are raised and leadership is found in an Oberstleutnant or even another Obersturmbannführer, for now Battalion 3 will serve as personal troops to Commandant Joachim Hoch. Make no mistake. Wehrmacht, Waffen-SS, it does not matter. You are all in a world of shit."

There was a low murmuring from the new arrivals. They knew all about their former kameradan. Then again, who didn't after his astounding destruction of an elite panzer division with a Kampfgruppe. Of course, it probably wasn't him throttling Americans that made them nervous. It was what he did to the SS in Vienna back in February…

"God help us." Someone in the Waffen-SS platoon said aloud to everyone. He wasn't just voicing their concern. Even the Heer soldiers shifted nervously.

"I realize that there will be a mistrust of anything related to the political army belonging to the late Führer." Stauffenberg pressed on, voicing their concerns before they started to simmer. "Our Commandant –a former Standartenführer believes that restitution can be made by those who thought service in that capacity was a benefit to the Fatherland. As you are Soldiers to the Provisional Government and to the Wehrmacht, I will expect you to welcome our repenting SS friends."

The screams once again caught their attention as a woman came running out of the house. She was utterly drenched in someone else's blood. Not caring, she collapsed before Stauffenberg and the one hundred and fifty new members of the Hoch regiment. The words she cried were almost completely unintelligible; all except for one statement.

_"The Devil killed my husband!"_ She screamed to her audience.

Harold shifted in place… He was officially freaked out now. Serving with the enemy? Screams from that home, and now this woman crying about the devil… What the hell was he getting into?

_"ACHTUNG!"_

The new members of the Regiment went from a relaxed state, to complete attention. There standing in the doorway was the giant commandant they now answered to. An axe in one hand, the other clutching what little hair was left on a man's head. Meeting Stauffenberg's expressionless stare, the Commandant stepped out of the doorway and moved towards Stauffenberg, who looked torn between revulsion and resignation.

Well… At least the Commandant wasn't above getting his own hands dirty.

Dropping the axe as he joined Stauffenberg, he ignored the screaming woman below him as he handed the bloody head to Stauffenberg. The face of his beheaded victim was contorted into a haunting display of terror. Holy shit…

"Take this to Berlin," Harold heard Commandant Hoch say over the woman's wild screaming, clearly the wife of the man he had beheaded. "See if they can make use of it."

Stauffenberg, now several shades paler nodded, and as though he had a handful of shit, he winced as went towards the trucks the new company had driven in. He did not notice the grins coming from some of the veterans of this Nazi hunter unit. The grins vanished the moment Oberst Hoch cleared his throat.

"My name is Joachim Hoch and this is a boilerplate disclaimer to each of you newcomers," Commandant Hoch barked to the gathered men. "If I so much as hear or see sympathy shown to fervent followers of National Socialism, I will have you locked up or sent back to the front. Armed or not, the unrepentant National Socialist is our enemy. He and she will be treated as such."

He paused and turned his attention to the large Waffen SS platoon. The leader, what appeared to be an Obersturmführer, somehow stood up even straighter as the bearded former member of their organization lumbered towards them. His eyes travelled over their uniforms still decorated in Waffen-SS insignias.

Hoch was not impressed by the display. His pointer finger snapped out and shoved the Obersturmführer in the chest.

"I'm holding you to a higher standard than the rest, Obersturmführer," he warned the SS Leutnant. "Most of the Wehrmacht believes that they are morally superior to us. It is as though they think that they do not have the same sort of blood on their hands like we have. They have no need to apologize. Prove yourself better than them to me and you will earn commendation from me."

_"You bastard… You murderous, traitorous bastard!"_

The woman who was married to the dead man was back on her feet. No longer would she be a victim. Not when she had inched over to where Hoch had left his axe and grabbed it by the handle. With all her might she raised it over her head and bolted at him.'

Calmly, Hoch rounded back on the woman. He did not attempt to disarm her. He dodged the swing of the axe and with all his might, drove his palm into the woman's nose. She screamed again as a sickening crunch could be heard by everyone gathered in her front yard. The pain was just too much for her; she lost her footing and collapsed.

Staring idly as he watched her clutch utterly shattered nose. Hoch reached into his pistol belt for his sidearm and shot her dead on the spot. He holstered his weapon before turning back to face the absolutely shocked arrivals. He was utterly unmoved by the sight of what he had done. He was colder than the iciest of Russian winter nights….

"You will deal with them accordingly," he said as he gestured to the dead or dying woman sprawled out before them as an example to them all. "Denazification through the fear of what happens if they resist is the order of the day…. dismissed."

Hoch did not have to give that order twice.

**…**

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**…**

"Hauptsturmführer Skorzeny?"

Turning away from the window, Otto Skorzeny found an Obersturmführer standing in the doorway to his office, his cap resting on his arm as he waited for Skorzeny to invite him, which he did. He had all the markings of an intelligence agent. Cool and distant as he seemed to inspect his new superior officer carefully.

"Obersturmführer Adrian von Fölkersam reporting in as you requested," the younger man said as he dropped his transfer orders in front of Skorzeny, who sat down behind his desk and glanced over them.

Adrian von Fölkersam was a Saint Petersburg born Baltic German, his parents and family line were aristocrats with a long history of service to the Russian Empire. With the Bolshevik induced collapse, they fled back to the Fatherland and pronounced themselves permanent enemies of all forms of left wing thought -especially when it involved Bolshevism.

His background made him a prime candidate for daring sabotage operations behind the Russian lines meant to sow confusion and chaos, in Adrian's own case, to maximum effect. Skorzeny signed the transfer papers, officially assigning the Abwehr trained Waffen-SS commando to his new assignment. He looked and found Adrian still in a state of attention. A professional subordinate, well this was new.

He would need one. Especially with what Reichsführer Himmler had sanctioned. They were so close now all he needed was one final push to enact his plans. Days… weeks most likely. But it was coming. With nearly half of the Waffen-SS now in talks with Himmler, while the Wehrmacht was over extended across Russia, Occupied Europe and Africa, it was only a matter of time before the SS reconsolidated their power in the Fatherland.

All they needed was a leader.

"You can relax Obersturmführer, take a seat," Skorzeny ordered as he gestured to the seat at the front of his desk.

Obersturmführer Fölkersam obliged his new commanding officer, who dug into his desk and retrieved a bottle of schnapps and a couple of glasses for them. He paused and put one of the glasses away as the impassive Abwehr field operative held up his hand in polite refusal. Regardless, Skorzeny poured himself a drink and leaned back into his seat. One hand clutched his drink, the other opening the Obersturmführer's file on the table.

As testament to his character, most men tried to peak at their official records when they were in plain sight. Not Fölkersam. He continued to stare ahead in a state of attention, uninterested. Sipping his drink, Skorzeny sighed as he closed the folder.

"I would like for you to tell me about your service in the Brandenburgers," Skorzeny spoke finally, bringing his curiosity to the focus. "I would especially like to hear of your actions in Maikop."

For the first time, the impassive expression of the Waffen-SS Obersturmführer vanished. He smiled, only a slight, modest smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. In return, Skorzeny's own grin crinkled his mensur scar.

"Care for that drink now?" Skorzeny inquired, finally earning an ever widening smile and a slight nod.

As Skorzeny poured a second glass and slid it over to Fölkersam's reach, he crossed his fingers on the table as he watched the junior Waffen-SS man sip his drink conservatively. He was not in any hurry for the story to be told. This was just an interview. After a moment or so, Fölkersam set his glass down.

"Well Herr Skorzeny, it was August of last year," the Obersturmführer begun to recall for the hulking Austrian. "I and just fewer than sixty five others of Baltic and Sudeten origin were ordered by our superior, Wilhelm Canaris to infiltrate behind enemy lines."

His words were so very cautious. Like he wasn't sure he should be discussing the matter. Skorzeny shot him a sympathetic smile.

"You penetrated farther into enemy territory than any other German unit at the time, am I correct?" Skorzeny inquired.

Sipping his drink, Fölkersam nodded at the statement, he was not smug about it.

"You would be," he conceded, before he paused for a moment as he added. "We were ordered to seize and secure the Maikop oilfields… our intentions were to make sure little damage was sustained to them by the Soviet scorched earth policy when the Heer undoubtedly took the region. After obtaining NKVD uniforms from prisoners, and driving Soviet trucks, we infiltrated through the Soviet front lines and moved deep into hostile territory."

"Is it true you ran into a large group of Red Army deserters fleeing from the front?"

He nodded.

"Yes, Herr Hauptsturmführer," Fölkersam once again confirmed. "They were a company or two in strength. I saw an opportunity to use them to our unit's advantage. We spooked the lot into returning to the Soviet cause through their typical methods. Threats, intimidation, but then offered an alternative. Service guaranteed their names kept out of the traitor books. It worked. We attached ourselves onto them and escorted them back behind the Soviet lines. We could almost move at will. No one suspected us as long as we kept ourselves looking busy and away from the roaming NKVD squads."

Skorzeny leaned into his seat; uniforms, trucks, manipulation of other people's fears in order to achieve an ends to a means. It was wonderful to see that covert actions were not a solely English specialty. He got a lot of flak from Churchill about how painfully inept Germans were when it came to cloak and dagger combat. Perhaps on his next visit to the imprisoned Englishman, he would present Adrian to him.

"That's impressive." He whistled, leaning further into his seat. "That's damn impressive."

For his part, Fölkersam did not seem too fazed with the praise.

"Thank you, Herr Skorzeny. Anyway, I was operating under false identity of a NKVD Major named Truchin based in Stalingrad; I explained my role in recovering the deserters to the Soviet commander in charge of Maikop's defences," He continued until he paused, a smile widening over his mouth as he added. "The stupid bastard not only believed me, but the next day gave him a personal tour of the city's defences."

Skorzeny burst out into laughter, his hands clapping together at the statement.

"We stayed there for a few days and by the 8th of August, the spearhead was only about 12 or so miles away," he continued. "Together my unit and I decided it was time to act. We used our grenades to simulate an artillery attack; the grenades knocked out the military communications centre for the city. After expending our grenades and waiting until the panic started to set in, I went to the Russian defenders and told them that a withdrawal was taking place. Since they knew I was NKVD and friendly with their commander, and finally lacking any communications to confirm the order, they began to evacuate Maikop quietly."

Taking a cigarette from Skorzeny, Adrian paused to wait for his cigarette to be lit before he took a long drag, then exhaled.

"The spearhead entered Maikop without a shot being fired the next day. The only soldiers they found were us. We got lucky that Abwehr was watching the advance. We could have been thrown into a Prisoner of War camp."

As Adrian von Fölkersam fell silent, Skorzeny found himself finally finding a kindred spirit. Someone he could talk shop with, without being bogged down in listening to tedious topics Ernst Kaltenbrunner loved to discuss and imagine that Skorzeny had been a lawyer just like him. With any luck, he would convince the professional to see the benefit of being a friend to him.

"I already read the report, but I'd rather have had heard it straight from you," Skorzeny admitted to the Obersturmführer. "Impressive, truly impressive. And to think there is no recognition of your accomplishment."

At the mention of recognition, Fölkersam actually looked upset, offended by the statement that Skorzeny made. Fölkersam slid his glass of schnapps to his superior.

"With all due respect, I did not sign onto my assignments for the glory, Herr Skorzeny. That is not the sort of soldier I am," The aristocratic commando spoke, his voice defensive. "I did it because my country asked me to. As the blade of the Abwehr, it must be a silent one; always a silent one."

Skorzeny only offered him a grin.

"This isn't the Abwehr, they are now our enemy," he reminded the offended commando. "No my friend, you're in a different league now. I have brought you here for one reason and one reason only… First however you must swear your loyalty to me. This mission has been commissioned by the Reichsführer. What we do here is removed from the rest of the SS's knowledge."

Fölkersam inclined his head.

"I swear it, Herr Hauptsturmführer." He said immediately.

Skorzeny nodded, pushing himself out of the seat, he waited for Fölkersam to do the same. There were no words he could use to describe what the Obersturmführer needed to know. Not without proof presented first. He would need to see his prisoner… the quarian pilot Dalad'Voar vas Osalion, who was sitting in a holding cell now unknowingly since he captured him in February. He believed himself a stranded guest still.

Little did he know the role he would soon play in Skorzeny's machinations.

"Come with me," Skorzeny said to the newcomer as he opened the door. "I have someone who you need to meet."

**...**

* * *

**...**

**And so things begin.**

**Someone complained about me not punishing Nazis? Military or civilian. Let this dispel such notions. We're going to kill Nazis. The great thing about this, is that there are so many to choose from. Men you know by deed but not by name. Pohl for instance was the man behind supplementing the German war economy with stolen goods.**

**Adrian von Fölkersam was a real Waffen-SS commando under temporary assignment to Abwehr behind enemy lines actions. Maikop was a real raid. For this action, it caught Skorzeny's attention in real life. Together, Adrian and Otto planned and executed Operation Panzerfaust.**

**Short version of this story is that they brazenly drove four Tiger II's into rebelling Budapest, stormed a castle, beat the hell out of the Hungarian Regent's son, rolled him up in a carpet and evacuated him to Germany, all to make sure Hungary stayed loyal in the face of the Soviet Union reaching their borders. Unfortunately Adrian did not survive the war, and so his name is mostly forgotten.**

**And they say history is boring.**

**Chapter was going to be longer, but with the tone of the chapter, things like Roosevelt felt out of place. I have plenty of content written in my absence to be used as the skeleton for easily the next three chapters. Means quicker updates.**

**I'd also like to thank my new Beta: Magyareagle for taking up the responsibility of making this story suck less. Yes, I trust a beta now. Any complaints about errors, direct them to him in the future!**


	2. Recall

**….**

**Chapter Two: Recall: April 25th- May 1st , 1943**

**….**

_President Roosevelt,_

_I write to you in the hopes of rekindling our brief acquaintance from such a long time ago. It feels like eons ago, and under much friendlier circumstances, but that friendliness is the reason I appeal to you now. I can only pray that once this letter finds your eyes, you will understand why I write this._

_Since the fall of the National Socialist government, I have been thinking a lot about this friendly relationship we had. From the fires of the last war, it seemed so likely that the United States and Germany could become friends. But with your Depression, and the rise of Nazism, such friendship has lost its way. Today we have a new opportunity to bring about another chance at friendship. One that is feasible, if together we take certain steps towards fostering this new vision of peace between us._

_It has been decided by the General Staff of the Wehrmacht that Germany and her people are not ready for democracy in any form. They consider it too much of a risk. As such, they approached my Father and I to retain the old seat of power, to bring forth the resumption of the Kaiser. My Father has agreed, but on one stipulation, that it will be I who resumes head of the line. He feels he is too old and set in his ways to serve the position. _

_Privately he has told me that my education in the United States could benefit the country. I happen to agree with him. Germany made a mistake in her short experiment with democracy, and as such a small cadre of military men use it as an excuse to banish such a noble concept. It is my intention to return Germany to a state of democratic control once again. This time however, following in the English system. Parliamentary politics appear to be better suited for the country once I assume the role of Head of State._

_There is not much time left for a friendship to be formed. The Wehrmacht leadership is dedicated to and distracted by hunting down and eradicating the National Socialist threats in the country. When they are done, l fear they will battle even fiercer against the external adversary. They have no restraints and the thing that keeps me up at night is the thought of my Generals simply using me as a puppet, like my grandfather before me. This I can assure you will not be the fate that shall befall me without a fight. I will fight the Prussian military aristocracy in charge of the Wehrmacht tooth and nail until they fall underneath my control._

_I am not delusional enough to think that this one letter will convince you to tell your Generals to pull back. In these dark times, one can only hope that there can be enough civilized discourse left in this world to allow two men on opposite sides of the war to at the very least be able to exchange private letters. I will send you only this one letter. If you do not reply, I will not continue my correspondence. However, it is my sincerest wish that you will have the personal conviction to pick up a pen and reply in turn. Done right, there could be much we could discuss with one another._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Prince Louis Ferdinand of House Hohenzollern_

"Well, I wasn't expecting to read this when I woke this morning, but here it is. Would you have any thoughts about this letter, Bill?"

Head of the Office of Strategic Services William J. Donovan turned back to the President, sitting behind the Hoover desk, his fingers laced together, his head bowed as though in prayer, though that was not the case. It was just the way Roosevelt privately digested the letter laying idly on the desk before him. It was odd, but in these times, it was not a surprise.

How all sectors of Allied intelligence had missed what had happened was baffling. The coup in itself was an odd one. Stavka –Soviet High Command, in a rare display of openness had approached their liaison to the United States Harry Hopkins and asked why the two warring factions hadn't split up the Eastern frontline into civil war. The Soviets, who were listening intently to the reports, would be in for a disappointment. As random as the uprooting of the Nazis and the assassination of Adolf Hitler had been, neither the SS nor the Wehrmacht were willing to let the east descend into chaos. There they continued to work in cohesion it seemed.

The English had gone into damage mode. To them this was a repeat of the Kaiser being turned into a figurehead for Hindenburg and Ludendorff's benefit, but that looked tame in comparison. With German High Command in charge of the country and no word if they were creating a civilian government at this time, all the English could see now was Germany going from bureaucratically inefficient to a military hierarchy that made all the rules and offered only two choices _'do'_ or _'die'_.

Worse still was that the English had gone dead silent. They did not answer calls from anyone, not even from the President, who was steadily becoming more and more annoyed trying to get in contact with his counterpart. The only one across the pond with ears on the situation was George Marshall and he was disbarred from sitting in on Churchill's conference about what was happening. The Brits were lucky as hell that Marshall could behave himself. Six feet tall and built like a gorilla, Marshall could probably knock the door off the frame and throttle most of the English into submission.

"This could be a cry of help from an inexperienced leader being thrust to head of a militarist government," Donovan spoke finally to the president, adding, "His fears are genuine, you know."

His words caught the President's attention. He looked up and allowed a ghost of a smile for his head of the OSS.

"So… it's still clear that the Germans have no intention on ending this war. Not yet at least," President Roosevelt finally spoke, unlacing his fingers. "I will be frank with you, Bill, the very thought of making peace at a table filled with smug east Prussian Junkers is nauseating. It's not an experience which I want to endure."

The President sighed as he appeared top rake through his memories of the young Prince he was relatively friendly with once upon a time.

"Yes, I remember Louis," he spoke rather fondly, all things considered. "He was a nice enough fellow when I met him. Fluent in English, he loved art, culture and was studying to become an engineer before the family was recalled back to Germany. He wasn't even next in line of succession until his brother was killed in France during the invasion. It allowed him to branch out from the family expectations. He's certainly different then his grandfather, that's for sure. But still, he is propping up a system that I cannot tolerate."

Nodding in understanding, William stood up from his seat at the couch and took the seat in front of the President's desk. Donovan felt the exact same. The concept of making peace with morally dubious Field Marshals and Generals had been unthinkable a year ago. These men had nearly as much blood on their hands as the Nazi Party did; the only thing separating them that they were realist opportunists who overthrew their government over extremely vague reasons.

"Why shouldn't we be the ones to approach them, sir?" Donovan spoke during Roosevelt's lapse. "It could be a good first step at fostering good will with the General Staff. They were very half hearted about going to war with us. Their quarrel was always meant for the east."

"And tell me, how can you be so sure?"

The question, while brisk and to the point was a good one. Thankfully Bill had been looking into the German chain of command since April of last year. He had a little bit of understanding to their motives."If I may be frank Mister President, I'm afraid you have been getting your briefings from men with a pathological hatred of Germans in Germany, and not just the Nazi variety."

His answer must have stunned the President. President Roosevelt simply sat there, looking at Donovan like he had just confessed some horrible secret. It was not the case. Anti-German sentiment in the White House, Senate and Congress was at an all-time irrational high.

"I believe that the Junker class has finally seen reason and will attempt to negotiate with us if we swallow our own pride long enough to open a dialogue with them." Donovan pressed on. "To simply ignore current events any further would be madness. Germany is a wholly different animal now. They've cut the fat from themselves. The Nazis themselves were some of our best allies, in that Hitler restricted the operational freedoms of the High Command. With German High Command now officially at the top of the totem pole, they now call the shots, they control the direction of the war industry and with Goebbels total war speech now being enforced it could make the war that much more fana… ah… _disciplined_."

William nearly allowed the word fanatical to be dropped. It was a completely unwise word to use. He considered it a stupid move to call an enemy fanatical. It was a lazy copout that undercut the enemy as some sort of stupid tool compared to their adversary. The enemy always had to be held with respect and not dismissed as lunatics, or it would come back and bite them on their ass.

"What do you suggest then?" The President inquired.

Oh. Donovan knew just where to start.

"First I suggest we bury any and all plan being design by Henry Morgenthau." Donovan stated straight away, taking the seat on the couch as offered by the President. "If the Germans get so much as a wind of his ramblings about breaking Germany up into farmland, the conflict between the SS and the Wehrmacht will cease. They will work together to make sure we pay for this concept even being thought by someone high in this administration."

Roosevelt didn't interject. William took it as a sign to continue.  
**  
**"Next up, we have a highly placed commander in the field that views this campaign as a campaign against evil in itself. Well that may be, but Eisenhower is overly sanctimonious about this war." Donovan pressed on, wishing he could put his opinion about Eisenhower in nicer terms, but failing to find the right words. Sighing he continued, saying, "if Eisenhower cannot be persuaded to tone back his rhetoric about a '_Great Crusade'_, it might be time that you replace him with George Marshall. Finally, we need to think more like the English –more… well... for lack of a better word… _deviously_."

President Roosevelt arched an eyebrow.

"Deviously?" He repeated, his tone amused by the OSS chief. William could only nod.

"Yes sir," confirmed the head of the Office of Strategic Services. "We need to think a little longer down the line. The Brits have already seen that there are two great threats to world peace. One that we battle against, the other we have aligned ourselves with. The Nazis attacked the west out of obligation because the English and French activated their alliance with Poland. Just as Hitler had to activate his alliance to Japan, the whole reason we got into the war in the first place. With certain commanders in high places fighting the Germans, they have taken the war and personalized it into a battle of good and evil. With the Wehrmacht battling the National Socialists, they now no longer have that excuse."

"So," started Roosevelt, leaning back into his wheelchair. "Your logic is that if we withdraw support from the west, and focus on the Japanese, our withdrawal forces the English to follow suit. The war in the west ends and it allows the Germans to put full focus on the Soviets. Then we allow the National Socialists… excuse me, the Militarists and Communists, to kill each other?"**  
**  
As soon as William nodded his head, Roosevelt started to chuckle at what he was being presented. Not out of disdain, but in an appreciation for what was being suggested.

"Donovan I like you. You think about things I cannot dare to think about," Roosevelt spoke as he rolled his wheelchair around the desk, making the head of the OSS stand up from his seat in natural instinct. Waiting for him to sit back down, the President added, "how would it look if the world's most powerful nation cut its losses and ran from tyranny of National Socialism and at the same time, allowed the revival of Prussian Militarism, which neither has a place in the world. We are trying to bring peace for all. Not just for us, but for them."

William nodded, the president wasn't wrong about what he was saying. Militarism and dictatorships should be relics of a less civilized time, and yes, it would say something if Roosevelt were to back down from the fight for European liberty from fascism. William couldn't imagine what struggle it must have been for a leader to have to traverse the messy business that was a war. The thing was, as right as he might have been; he was still influenced by the propaganda machine like most men in politics.

In war, one could not expect to have much sympathy when it came to the enemy. But to act blindly and not empathize with the enemy was just as foolish.

"Sir I mean no disrespect, but we have to face a truth here," William spoke up, his tone dire. "This war isn't simple for us to fight anymore. This is no longer a battle against an inexcusably criminal regime, but now against a nation dominated by the military. German High Command is in charge of an entire nation. They don't care about anything but waging war and they will _want_ to win at any cost. To them it's essential that they win at any cost. They could arm millions of anti-communists in Russia and the Ukraine-SSR to fight the Soviets, they could throw every German male from 14 to 70 into combat against us if they so choose and send the women to work like we are doing. Hell Mr. President, they could start sending the excess women to battle as well."

Donovan paused as he allowed the President to digest his hypothesis into the thought process of the German High Command. Taking several deep inhales and exhales, he bit his lip as he added.

"My question is: Are you prepared to enact an even larger draft? Are you prepared to bleed dry the youth of the nation for a war against an enemy that hasn't physically attacked the United States of America-"

President Roosevelt held up his hand.

"Would we win the war if we continue?" The President cut him off.

Donovan leaned into his seat, unable to meet the eyes of the President, who was looking at him in a way a father would if his son had done something dreadful.

"Most likely…" Donovan replied. "Yes, if we go full tilt on them, yes we could put them down. But would it be worth destroying half of Europe to go after a regime that no longer exists? Because that is what will likely happen if we assault mainland Europe; I can almost guarantee it. I… I don't want to turn Western Europe into rubble. We're playing a game against an enemy that likely doesn't to play it anymore then I do. It's a game that's going to kill a lot of people…"

Donovan exhaled, pushing his hands through his thinning hair.

"If may add, sir, I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me," Donovan started back up, rubbing his neck nervously as Roosevelt continued to smile at him quizzically. "Like you said, I need to say these sorts of things because someone has to. Whatever you choose, I'll stand behind you, Mr. President. Because you are right, these men shouldn't be in charge of mainland Europe. I just need to know that all avenues are explored before we commit to turning Germany and Western Europe as a whole into rubble."

Donovan fell silent and stared into his lap. He could hear wheels roll towards him, then a hand falling onto his shoulder.

"I know, Bill. That's why I agreed to your nomination to your position," The President comforted him. "You're a straight shooter, and I need you to be this voice of realism as well as a strong understanding of restraint... for Christ sake. I'm getting memos on concept weapons that should not ever exist. Yesterday I find out that our boys and the Canadians are looking into ricin laced cluster bombs! What the hell is that about?"

The Intelligence chief frowned.

"I'll look into it, sir," he assured the boss. "Tell them to scrap the plan?"

Roosevelt grunted rather crudely as he shrugged. Pushing his wheelchair over to the couch, the President pulled himself out of the wheelchair and settled into the more comfortable seating. He leaned forward and pulled a case filled with cigarettes from off the table. He looked to Donovan, standing still in front of his desk and gestured for him to join him.

Donovan obliged and sat on the couch opposite to him, sitting patiently with his hands in his lap as he waited for the president to finish lighting up his cigarette.

"Bill, I made my commitments… so no… I can't stop the war. Not on dime. Not just because you think it's best." The President said in between his inhales. His tone sounded almost resigned. "Nor can I be the one to open the line of communication for an armistice without informing my colleague across the pond. It would look bad. Now…If the Germans were the ones to approach us, it might be different. How could we convince them of good will without it looking like we want to end the war?"

Donovan perked right up.

"_Ways?_" William repeated the President's words, now almost hopeful that he had gotten through to him. "Well, a personal message of goodwill to Rundstedt and whoever is in charge of the country as soon as possible; not a request for peace, just an acknowledgement of their feat, just so we can open the possibility of a dialogue to them. You could quietly scale back bombing raids over Germany; we are now dangerously approaching what the Luftwaffe did to London and Rotterdam. Any further and we're wandering into war crimes territory. Scale back American contributions to the European campaign under the guise of transferring to the Pacific. There's a multitude of ways to get the German's attention."

He paused.

"And the Prince?" he asked the obvious. "Will you respond, sir?"

Roosevelt looked to the desk he had left the letter on. Slowly he nodded.

"I should think a personal letter would suffice." The President decided as he tapped ashes into a tray. "Receptive of course, but reserved, it would be wise not to discuss the war in great length."

William Donovan thought it was an excellent idea.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"_ROCKET ARTILLERY! TAKE COVER!"_

The moaning of Nebelwerfer rockets raining down on them made Oberst Joachim Hoch drop to the ground behind his command Hanomag. Thankfully the salvo hit just off from Joachim's staging ground. Still, it was too close for comfort. How the SS got their hands on Nebelwerfer rocket launchers and operators was a mystery he planned on solving as soon as he got his artillery units deployed to return a counter barrage.

"We're being shelled Herr Generalleutnant, Requesting to deploy my artillery units to return fire!"

"_Artillery is out of the question, Hoch! This is not the front, this is Darmstadt!"_

Ignoring the urge to join the heavy fighting erupting in the outskirts of Darmstadt, Joachim Hoch gripped the handle of his phone as he wondered to himself why Weidling had ordered him to join in on the attack on Darmstadt. The city was a hotbed for Nazi activity, but of little strategic importance in the long run. The only militarily valuable target was the Merck chemical factory. It was better to spare the troops needless bloodshed.

He could only be left with the belief that this was to be one of the staging grounds for the assault on Frankfurt, the next step towards driving northeast to Berlin. With much of the ancestral home of National Socialism conquered; Nuremberg, Munich and the rest of Bavaria, the National Socialists had fled to reinforce control of the North of the Reich even as the Prussians were cleaning out the Bavarian countryside, much to their consternation.

"_Hoch, do you understand my directive. There will be no unnecessary destruction of property during our liberation of Darmstadt. Are we clear?"_

_Helmuth Weidling_. He was a good enough field commander, but his drawback was apparently in not understanding that the only way the Party and the SS would give up was through absolute warfare, an unprecedented civil war that made all other civil wars across the world and history look tame by comparison. There could not be any compromise or weakness in the Wehrmacht's resolve. Not when they were doing battle against emotionless killers.

That was the problem with Wehrmacht men. They underestimated the sheer irrational, yet utterly zealot will the Allgemeine-SS had for holding onto what dwindling power they had left. Now with Werwolf, an SS sponsored civilian terrorist group doing battle against them like partisans in Russia, it made the task all the more important to totally demoralize the Nazis. If it meant Darmstadt was turned into smouldering ruins, so be it.

"So you would sooner save a few buildings and send in my men without fire support then deal with the enemy appropriately."

He shouldn't have said that aloud. Weidling clearly was having a bad day as well.

"_We have explicit orders to refrain from damaging the infrastructure of the Reich." _The General warned the Oberst._ "If these orders go for me, then they go double for you. We have enough problems with English and American bombing raids. I do not want our troubles to include us as well. This isn't the Waffen-SS. You're in the business of professional soldiering now. You will obey what I say!"_

Hoch, however, was not willing to stand for this bullshit. General or not, this was a stupid order to follow. And stupid orders got good men killed.

"You withhold my heavy armour support and now you take away my guns? This is madness!" Hoch cursed at the general. "You'll be sending my men to a slaughter."

"_MY ORDERS STAND, OBERST."_

Weidling sudden eruption startled the Oberst's anger into a state of silence. He knew he would get no further with the General. Any further debate was pointless now. He would have to fight the enemy without any of his advantages. This was unbelievable.

"Yeah, Herr Generalleutnant; understood" the seething ex-Nazi muttered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the side of the half-track. As soon as the line disconnected, Joachim opened his eyes.

"_FUCK!_" He screamed as he dropped the radio communication device and kicked the tracks of his command Hanomag.

He ignored the throbbing now pulsing in his foot, he also ignored the gathering of officers that had appeared from out of the woodwork the moment they heard their commandant scream an obscenity. He ignored them as they surrounded him. With a low growl, he squatted against the armoured halftrack, his hand running through his heavy beard as he continued to mutter angry words while he thought about his next moves.

He was being told to fight with one hand behind his back. No German soldier in the history of the unified state had ever been told to fight with restraint. The General issued his order, but he gave his ground commanders great freedoms to accomplish his goals. It was the reason the Razing of Rotterdam and the so called _'Rape of Belgium'_ happened in the last war. Sure, it gave bad name to the Heer, but it worked and to a German soldier, so long as it worked, damn his reputation.

Being told that not to use heavier panzers, that much he could understand. A logical unwillingness to send them into urban combat, especially since the enemy had limited armour and the fact that most heavy armour was to be sent to the front and prepared for the coming offensive against the Soviets, but no self-propelled guns? No high explosive round firing assault guns? No field artillery, not even the Luftwaffe? He signed onto the Wehrmacht to have access to these things. He could have gone the route of a private assassin if he wanted to and just spent the rest of the civil war killing one Nazi at a time, but no, duty told him to fight for the country while he waged his vendetta.

"Herr Hoch?"

The query came from his second, Stauffenberg, his arms crossed behind his back as he looked on his commandant's dishevelled appearance most distastefully. He was older then Hoch and as such, probably felt answering to a man a decade younger than him as unbecoming. Well fuck the one eyed count. According to the future Kaiser, they were now the best of friends.

"Wielding has issued the order that we're not allowed to operate anything more powerful than Panzer III's," he spoke finally to the men gathered around him, unable to meet their eyes. "Artillery support is reduced to what shitty little mortars we can get out hands on. Air support is non-existent. We go into Darmstadt exposed. Tell the men to take it nice and slow -Building by building. If Generalleutnant Weidling is going to make me conserve my firepower and use restraint, then we're going to go about retaking the city like the war of 1914."

The gathering muttered lowly as they absorbed the news.

"With all due respect, we were at least allowed to have artillery fire support back then."

Hoch inwardly growled as his new Panzer leader of the Hoch Regiment, Major Thomas Beck's sardonic comment earned the laughter of the men. Ignoring their chuckling; Hoch stood back up and went around to the back of the Hanomag to fetch the newest addition to Joachim's entourage. Sticking his head into the back of the halftrack, he clapped his hands together and whistled.

"_Blondi, come!"_

At the sound of her name being called by her new master, the German Shepherd , sprawled out on the floor of the armoured vehicle perked right up and bounded out of the Hanomag to join her new master's side. Patting her head idly, Joachim pulled her leash off the door of the halftrack and latched it onto her collar.

Yes. Joachim Hoch was now in possession of Adolf Hitler's pride and joy of the animal kingdom: His dog, Blondi.

Heinz Guderian had found her roaming the ruins of the Kehlsteinhaus and took her in. For some reason or another, Guderian and Zorah presented him the dog when he'd returned to Earth so he could receive his commission into the Wehrmacht. They were planning on giving her back to the Führer, when the quarian captain told them that no animals were allowed on any other ship then the vessels dedicated to livestock slaughter. When asked how they could have meats to consume, because Joachim knew that Hanala wasn't a vegetarian, the simple answer was a technique called cloning. Create through blood samples, grow, kill, consume, repeat.

Cloning: It was fucking horrifying to hear in Hoch's opinion.

He had never before owned a pet before. Mother was very sensible when it came to any request he had for animal companions. Like everything he had to say in that time period, she simply ignored his requests. It was expected when it came to feeding a child with limited income coming into the home in the postwar, post father era. By the time he was ten, he had stopped caring about such things. So when Guderian presented the Shepherd to him, beaten up and mangy from the week long siege laid on Berchtesgaden and the Kehlsteinhaus. Hoch took pity and accepted her in into his life.

His fingers scratching behind Blondi's ears, he looked up to his officers, the junior ones understanding just where this animal came from had their mouths open. The moment he stood up straight, the men went back into a state of attention.

"We move out in the hour," he finally issued the order to them. "Get the men organized and double up on grenades and ammunition."

The company commanders dismissed themselves as Hoch turned his attention back to Blondi. Together, Hoch and his new dog walked away from the rest of the leadership still lingering as they discussed the details of the operation that Joachim had no desire to listen to. It wasn't long until he found himself being followed by Oberst Stauffenberg and Major Beck.

He didn't want to do this anymore. Fight in large scale battles like this. He'd came back to Earth with the sole purpose of waging war against individuals the Wehrmacht identified as criminals. Unfortunately, fighting a war on two fronts and needing to occupy volatile countries like France, Norway and Yugoslavia meant a serious drain on the number of competent officers available, coupled with the need for increasing numbers of skilled field commanders to fight the ever growing National Socialist threat, meant that his hunt for the worse members of the party would be put on hold while they mostly ran free without him pursuing them.

"It's not like the SS here have better equipment then us, Herr Commandant," Stauffenberg spoke, his hands behind his back as he followed his Commander and dog setting the pace. "If anything we have the edge on them in every way. I doubt that they have much in the way of armour and artillery."

Major Beck was thankfully unmoved by Stauffenberg's assessment.

"With all due respect, Herr Oberst, that's what they're counting on," the Major spoke respectfully to the one eyed man. "They expect us to show restraint to a foe in our own country. We cannot afford to give them that safe assumption that we'll be easy on them in the Fatherland."

Passing by a column of idle Panthers, Joachim paused and watched as the crews sat around their vehicles, smoking and playing cards. They were being given the battle off thanks to Weidling's command about involving medium panzers in urban combat. The sight of them lounging while the infantry were preparing for attack left Hoch fuming with rage.

Instead of continuing down the firing line, Hoch and Blondi veered, much to his two highest ranking subordinates' surprise. He marched down towards the lounging panzer crews, his eyes trained on what appeared to be the highest ranking man there. It was a Hauptmann, sipping from a glass bottle that looked suspiciously like alcohol.

The moment the Panther men noticed Hoch approaching them, they shot from their relaxed state in to strict attention. There was still a smile on the Hauptmann's face. It vanished in an instant as Hoch swung his hand back and backhanded the older man so hard that he stumbled in place. Glaring contemptuously at the Hauptmann, Hoch turned back to the Panzer men.

"GET IN YOUR FUCKING PANZERS, YOU LAYABOUTS!" He screamed at them with furious anger.

He did not need to repeat himself, Hoch turned back to Beck, who was at attention. These were his men Hoch was furious with. He was lucky the unstable Oberst hadn't smacked him around yet.

"Major Beck, I want that column of upgraded Panzer III's broken up and placed into the attack; and since the Sturmgeschütz III is built on the chassis of a Panzer III, they go in as well." he ordered, pointing out to the scrambling Panther crews as they ran their checks on their Panzers. "I want all armour piercing shells to be replaced with high explosive rounds for kicking down any strongholds. You will tell those panzer men to be liberal with their fire. You're dismissed."

Watching as Beck snapped out a _'jawol'_ and a salute, then ran down to talk with the Panther crews scrambling into their Panzers, Hoch turned back to Stauffenberg, who looked offended by what Hoch was doing. Disobeying orders from a direct superior officer was a serious indictment made by Hoch about Helmuth Weidling's operational ability.

"I do not let advantages slip by, I do not play politics Stauffenberg, I do not have a reputation to lose, I do not care if I knock down a few buildings and I certainly do not care about the civilians still holed up in that city," Hoch rumbled, his eyes narrowed at the look of clear protest being offered by the minor aristocrat soldier. "We have been blasting warnings to the civilians for weeks now over the radios about staying in cities when the Wehrmacht shows up. It's their prerogative if they want to stick around during the attack. My conscience is clear and so should yours."

Mushing Blondi, Hoch and his new pet left, leaving Stauffenberg annoyed by the flagrant disrespect for Weidling's orders. Annoyed and utterly disgusted by the lack of humanity in this bastard.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Hanala gave a silent scream as she thought about ending her life.

Although she would never do something like that, it did not hurt to think about all the ways she could do it right here, right now. It was a welcomed relief from listening to a pack of bored mothers talk unceasingly about their children from the moment Hanala said hello to them. Was this what motherhood was? Cackling laughter about stupid things their children did while they wasted their youth?

Now, she was certain they were nice and the best possible examples of parenting to learn from while she was stuck here, but that did not entitle them to blast out what remained of her hearing for the purpose of talking about inane things such as bedtime disobedience.

Quietly she wondered how Joachim was doing. This was day six of his attack on Darmstadt. Apparently he had ignored orders and sent his Panzers in armed with high explosives and ill intent. Darmstadt would be leveled by the time he was done with that town, and he would undoubtedly get in trouble for it. Something he would not give a shit about if she knew Joachim at all.

Hanala kind of wished she was down there with him. The thing was most of her sensibility had dissuaded her from any further participation in conventional warfare. That was not to say she was growing soft. She just did not like the thought of fighting in a battle with so many people there trying to kill her.

"Admiral… Hanala, are you there?"

Hanala looked away from where Saleb was playing and turned back to find the pack of mothers all staring at her. The woman asking the question was Kaiah'Voss vas Eduni. She was the Eduni's Captain, a civilian vessel. A member of the Conclave, she must have looked onto Hanala's title dubiously as she was not elected to her position. Still, at least she could remain civil about it.

She was also best friends with Veyare, which meant that Hanala was under serious scrutiny when it came to raising Saleb. It had even been suggested by several rumours that Kaiah had been pushing Mother to be Saleb's guardian just before Hanala had come out of her shock and volunteered herself to be Saleb's caretaker.

If it was true, then Hanala would keep an eye on her a little more carefully.

"I was just admiring how adjusted Saleb is… all things considered," Said Kaiah, smiling to Hanala as she gestured to Saleb, adding, "You must be doing a wonderful job."

Hanala allowed a flash of a smile to be expressed as she looked to Saleb, watching Malu'Sau –one of the girls laugh and show something on her datapad to Saleb. To her own credit, Saleb managed to go through the motions -smile and chuckle at whatever they were looking at. It was probably not genuine emotions she was feeling, but it was nice to hear regardless.

"I am just stumbling through this the best I can." Hanala returned. "Things will never be normal for her ever again. We'll just have to create a new normal…"

Hanala trailed off as the doors to the recreation room opened and in marched two stern looking military personnel stepped into the room. Both of them scanned the activity of the children until they froze and took notice of the Admiral sitting in the room, staring right back at them.

Hanala sighed and stood up. She would figure out what this was about. The guards, women a little younger looking, both of them taller than herself snapped to attention as Hanala stood from her seat with the mothers and approached them to find an answer for their presence here.

"Admiral Jarva, our apologies for intruding," the woman spoke as she handed what appeared to be a datapad containing her orders for the day. "Admiral Zorah issued a directive to ease on the security restrictions on the Goebbels family. If we knew this recreational centre was busy…"

Hanala looked up from the datapad and handed it back to the guard. Her eyes fell on the third woman standing behind the two guards. She was a stern looking human. It was Magda Goebbels. It was the woman that Joachim saved that fateful morning when he captured Hitler. Behind her were her children, just as dead silent as their mother.

Hanala frowned as she took in her appearance. She wore a pink designer dress that… that Lene had bought for her when she was finally ready to blend into human life. The side of her face looked as though they were in the final stages of some sort of microsurgery; her own eyes were cast on the other mothers dealing with their unruly children distastefully before looking away as though the unrepentant Nazi mother thought she would catch a disease from them. To a German mother like Magda, such a sight that was children running wild must have been absolutely revolting.

This reaction to what she perceived as liberal parenting was not surprising to Hanala as she looked on Magda's children. The children she had were lined up almost as disciplined as soldiers. Like their mother, their expressions were empty and extremely guarded about the presence of alien children before them. They were somewhat…well… creepy.

Sighing, Hanala turned back to the two guards.

"No need to worry, Frau Goebbels can stay;" the Admiral told them, adding, "go and take a break, I'll keep an eye on her."

Nodding, the guards backed away from Magda Goebbels, who continued to stare off as though the collection of mothers and children were invisible. With only one more moment of hesitation and nothing to say to her new handler, Magda shoved by Hanala and wandered towards the farthest seat she could find in the recreational centre as far away as she could possibly be from the dozen staring mothers. It was clear to Hanala that Magda and she were not much different in at least one sense. They were only there out of obligation to children.

Behind her, her six children followed in silence, almost as though they were in military drill. Still she paid no attention to the flock of quarian mothers who were still watching her every move suspiciously. All had heard about humans, but this was the first time that any of them had seen one in person. So far, their impression was not a good one by the way Magda was acting.

Sighing, Hanala closed the sliding down and went to go and join the rest of Saleb's friend's mothers, all of them still utterly transfixed by the apathetic human sitting in the room far away from them.

"They look so much like us… except… more… primitive…" said Kaiah, her head tilted as she inspected the woman. "They must have terrible night vision."

Hanala smiled privately as she remembered finding Joachim sprawled on the ground cursing and rubbing his head when he had gone to get some water in the middle of the night. Yes, their night vision was definitely subpar to that of a quarian.

"And you're in a relationship with one of them?"

Hanala did not reply to the question being asked by one of the mother's -Bauvari'Nore vas Eduni, who was the eldest mother of them all. Hanala simply shuffled her feet as she tried to smile faintly as she tried to ignore the sudden shift in focus back to Hanala the moment they realized.

"It's… complicated…" Hanala sighed, looking at her lap instead of the stares she was receiving. "We can't get married, he legally can't help play guardian to Saleb, we can't really be seen in public together on Earth, nor the fleet, and that's not including recent events…"

Bauvari appeared unmoved by the challenges facing Hanala's private life.

"It is for the best that Saleb is without a human in her life in a position of guardianship," The mother sighed, looking away from Hanala. "The last thing you want her to be doing is to be influenced by these… _creatures_. I doubt a mixed family… let alone a human family would be a good environment for a child. No, Saleb needs a stable home of quarians; nothing less."

Hanala ignored the urge to smash in the stupidly smug expression written on Bauvari'Nore's face, let alone the chuckling coming from the others, whether in concurrence, or mocking, she could not tell. Had she continued to hold the title of cool aunt rather than guardian, she would have gladly gone to town on all of them physically and verbally.

Looking away, she focused back on Magda, who was retrieving what appeared to be a pack of cigarettes and her lighter. Without understanding that the cigarette smoke that she wanted to inhale was toxic to her children and potentially allergenic inducing in the little quarian lungs that might inhale it. That was all it took to motivate her to stand up and nearly march to Magda.

Magda did not look up as Hanala stopped in front of her and cleared her throat loudly.

"Frau Goebbels… would you care to join us?" Hanala spoke to the former First Lady of the Reich, smiling down on the woman. She even used the German she was learning and not the translation device as a small measure of comfort for the woman.

It went unnoticed.

Magda Goebbels did not reply to the query being asked, she instead took a drag of her cigarette. Still she did not care that the second hand smoke was not only poisoning her children, but potentially harming the quarian children as well. Magda crossed one leg over the other and tapped the ashes to the floor. Her eyes darted to her children, who like drones wandered together away from the two of them to inspect the large room.

Hanala looked away and focused on Saleb, who was staring at the children wearily. Her eyes turned back to her aunt. Hanala smiled slightly and nodded. It was that was needed to encourage her. Saleb stood up from her group of chattering friends and wandered to the humans. For the first time, Magda blinked, her eyes following Saleb like a bird-of-prey as she approached one of the girls; one that was about her own age.

The two eldest girls were dead eyed, like they had seen a great horror and were not interested in interacting with the little quarian girl staring at them. The other four seems a little more receptive. The only boy, clutching his youngest sister's hand tightly, looked back to his Mother as though waiting for an order that never came. Still Magda remained silent. Taking it as a sign, the boy , the youngest sister and another girl, who looked shy stepped back and remained at their eldest sister's side.

It left Saleb with only one of the Goebbels children, a girl about Saleb's age who was smiling happily to the quarian girl. Saleb offered a smile back and wordlessly gestured the human child to join her, which she happily did. She did not as much as look back for orders from her mother. The rebel child of the Goebbels children; Hanala smiled slightly.

Hanala turned back to the woman still smoking.

"For the sake of the children, human and quarian could you stub that out?"

Magda still did not listen; she continued to inhale her cigarette, uncaring of the request being made of her. Without so much as a warning, Hanala reached out and took the cigarette from the woman's mouth, scrunching it in the palm of her hand. She ignored the burning sensation as she stared down the woman; it was almost like challenging her to do something about it.

Ignoring her mutinous glare, Hanala slumped down into the seat next to Magda. She was done with those cackling bitches anyway, at least with Magda she knew where she stood, and it was somewhere around the level of shit.

"The outfit is a little small on you." She started, earning a dark glare from Magda. Hanala quickly amended, "I mean that it's a little short on you. You're quite a bit taller then I, you see... I had them tailored in my size…"

Hanala trailed off helplessly and bit her lip as the blonde with cold eyes. She looked away from the quarian woman.

"A Christian Dior tailored dress." Magda spoke at long last, crossing one leg over the other. "You have good tastes."

Hanala inclined her head.

"Ah… Thank you." She replied. "I can't take all the credit. I had a Nazi wife dress me when I first arrived on Earth. She figured that I should have only the best, and, well I'm inclined to agree."

Hanala went silent as it became clear that Magda was not going to push the conversation any further. Good… because it was making her remember Lene.

She turned her eyes to Saleb, who was showing the little Goebbels girl how a datapad worked; presumably in an attempt to play a game or something along those lines. Perhaps it would be better if they played with something that didn't involve electronics. She would have to introduce the children to human games she had seen in her observations of humanity. Football… perhaps even capture the flag would amuse them.

"I have a translator you know," Magda suddenly spoke up, making Hanala jump in her seat; her words filled with rage as she subtly gestured to the other mothers. "I know what the gist of their gossips. They think me some sort of inferior being. It's rich coming from some fat, lazy cows."

Knowing exactly what that grazing herbivore livestock was exactly, Hanala had to suppress the urge to laugh. For a stone cold bitch, Magda Goebbels was apparently a sharp witted woman. She had to be considering the social circles she was running in before Joachim tricked her into coming to the fleet.

Magda wasn't wrong either. While Hanala's hearing was severely damaged by the Tiger tank round that nearly killed herm and would need surgery to restore it to a proper level; she too could faintly pick up the Mothers gossiping with Magda on their minds. It was clear that these women were not taking a liking to the woman.

"_Fuck them."_ She mumbled her breath, but loud enough for the woman to look to her in surprise.

That was when it happened. For the first time since they met, now rounding into its twentieth minute, Magda looked at Hanala with far less malice and annoyance then she had before. She looked close to breaking her stony expression. Perhaps they were finally making headway. She could help the human adjust to this new life she would have. Perhaps she would give Hanala a few parenting tips in return…

"Just… Don't mind them, Frau Goebbels," Hanala assured the brooding mother. "They do not mean harm… well… not really. They just need to understand humans a little more than what they know now. I'm sure when things settle down, it will get better."

Magda did not reply. Instead she stood up and looked ready to storm someone. Hanala frowned and turned to the direction the Mother was staring at.

She could not believe it. There, sitting across from the human child sat a surprisingly curious Mal'Voss nar Eduni. A stupid grin on his face as he prodded the younger girl in a way that suggested he was examining her in a less then appropriate way. Whether the boy knew better or not was unknown. Still, being ten didn't excuse this.

Before Magda could scream out in threatening sounding German that, while it might have been a warning, it would have certainly sounded like a screaming monster that would scare the children, Hanala stood up and turned to the Captain of the Eduni, who was too deep in a conversation to notice.

"_KAIAH, PUT YOUR SON ON A LEASH!"_ Hanala screamed out to the woman.

Realizing that Hanala was acting like an Admiral instead of a fellow parental type, Kaiah launched herself from out of her seat and pulled the curious boy away from the human girl, who was still smiling. Probably out of confusion as the bickering in Khelish grew even stronger.

A little boy playing doctor with a new strange girl, of course it was bound to happen. It was something that Hanala had experienced it herself with Joachim…

Or was it the other way around? Huh.

"I'm sorry, Frau Goebbels." Hanala apologized to the fuming Magda. "Things are a little… _loose_ when it comes to parenting. I can assure you that he meant no harm."

Hanala's reaction and apology were simply not enough. It was clear now how similar Magda and her own mother was when it came to the method of child rearing. Eight or eighty, if you did something to her children that offended her, there would be blood spilled over the matter. Things like dignity did not matter to her when her kids were in trouble.

"How do I get this damn this to talk to them in their language?" Magda hissed, gesturing to the small translation earpiece. Hanala bit her lip.

"It's automatic."

Magda did not answer; she instead pushed past Hanala, marched through the children and planted herself in front of the shocked quarian women. Magda's eyes narrowed on them in a way that would make Hanala think about running away. It was clearly a German thing as she seen it in Joachim before.

"You had better keep your scrawny, frail looking, grubby, _miscreant_ children off my Angels, or so help me _God_ I will have to do something about it." She hissed at the women. "Each and every one of you is the epitome of bad, lazy mothers; Liberal with the praise and too much of a weak-willed bitch to instill any sense of discipline into your misbehaved little monsters. Well since I am here and have nothing better to do, then I suppose you are my new hobby: Turning you incompetent idiots into decent parental figures."

The group of women could not believe their ears as a woman who was technologically inferior by centuries went after them with such violence in her tone that she sounded like a female krogan protecting her brood. Magda's hands were in tight balls, like she was ready to strike someone. Slowly, her mouth curled up into an awful sneer.

"And while you're on the topic of my appearance." Magda continued, her words growing poisonous. "Might I suggest that instead of sitting on your fat, lazy asses, squealing about your hideous little bastards, you should hit the gymnasium instead and shed some weight, you disgusting pigs!"

The mother's weren't too heavy in weight as Hanala examined them closer. Sure they looked like they had children, but it wasn't bad. Hanala knew exactly what this was. Considering that Magda's late husband was an absolute master of the human condition, she was working some of his manipulative magic in the women to a varying degree of success. The Captain was unaffected by it. The other, the traditional mothers had far less self-esteem and were taking Magda's striking words to heart.

Satisfied that her words had hit home for them, Magda turned away, stepping between the Quarian children, she reached out and latched her hand onto Hedda's arm, and with one good yank she dragged her daughter off the ground, ignoring the protesting scream from the girl. Magda paused only once to turn to Hanala.

"You're better than them, Hanala Jarva, physically, culturally and attitude-wise," the Nazi wife said to Hanala, her voice clearly being forced to remain calm. "Why you would stoop to keeping their company is beyond me… If you slum with scum, you're bound to fall into their trap."

Magda turned away, tugging out one of her cigarettes, with her free hand and dragging poor Hedda away, she left, her other children in tow, leaving the mothers and their children in a state of shock.

Hanala could not help herself, she smiled. Perhaps she made herself a new friend.

**…..**

* * *

**…..**

Halid'Zorah needed a drink.

Taking a deep breath, Halid'Zorah steadied himself. He had to do one of those things he had been putting off for a long while. But now he had to do it. Bite the bullet as humans sayings go.

With the last of his bravery summoned, he opened the doors to his own office and stepped into the room.

There, standing in his office was Joachim Hoch. His back was turned to the door; His head seemed to be bent as he held something in his hands. He looked… off. It was as though he was quaking from overactive nerves contracting and retracting.

"I'm glad that you arrived, Joachim, care to sit?" Halid flat out lied to the Oberst, still with his back turned to him.

Hoch straightened out and turned to him, his hands dropping to their sides. He looked like a mess. Six days of continuous urban combat had taken a toll on him. His uniform was dusty and speckled with blood that wasn't his. On Halid's desk sat a Stahlhelm that was. He wasn't a man who led from behind the lines, that much was clear.

"You called me away from finishing my attack on Darmstadt." He grumbled at the Admiral, his tone unimpressed with why he was here. "It had better be important."

"It is," He assured the human. "Can I get you anything?"

Joachim did not reply. That was probably for the best. He was probably still seething with righteous hatred for the quarian that could not live up to his end of their deal. The death of the Langer family would be on his hands until they both died; and rightfully so. Though Gerald Langer may have had some moral culpability to what had happened, Lene and her children did not deserve to die.

They would not have had he simply stepped back and let Heydrich die. Like the bastard had deserved.

"_Your wife?"_

The rumbling caught his attention. In Joachim's hands was a holoframe of a young woman smiling and waving to him and the Admiral. Halid nodded as he stepped forward and took it from Hoch like it was delicate glass. He smiled back to the woman in the holo.

"Her name was Naila," he informed the man as he put the holoframe back on his counter; Pausing for a moment, he breathed "She was my first wife."

Joachim arched his brow. Sighing, Halid gestured to the seat in front of his desk. The human obliged him, slumping heavily into the seat.

"Naila and I served in FLEETINOPS together –Fleet Intelligence Operations." He explained as he took a seat. "We were young, younger then you are. We had quite separate careers: She was naval intelligence; I was doing more hands on cloak and dagger, wet-work sort of assignments. Hands-on spy and assassination work. One day command assigned us together to infiltrate a salarian research facility containing the blueprints and working prototype of the NND."

Hoch stared at him as though his translation device had been switched off.

"NND: Neural Network Disruptor." He explained for the human lighting up a cigarette. "It was designed as the geth uprisings began to overload the growing geth network. It would block access of the programs to the geth platforms. It was a weapon of containment. It was meant to put the geth back on their leash, by us some time so that we could safely deactivate their intelligence hubs."

Zorah paused as he looked at Joachim's ever growing confused expression. All of this was going over his head, even as he tried to simplify it for the human. Zorah smiled slightly and watched as Hoch took a drag from his cigarette.

"You see geth intelligences are network based," The Admiral started to explain. "They are not individuals like you or I, their intelligence are not in their platforms, but in large data storage facilities located across quarian space. At best, they are hive-mind intelligence. I suppose like your honey bees or any insect colony. Individually each AI program is stupid, but together they work in organized cohesion..."

Joachim continued to stare at him. It was clear that Hoch understood it, but he simply didn't give a fuck.

"This may come as a surprise, but there was once a time when at least one of the council races was looking out for us." He continued, "The salarians are like you and I -curiosity driven people. We got along splendidly with them." He said, unable to contain his smile. "When the attack by the geth began, the salarians were the only major power that had organized their fleet and were coming to our aid. We did not have to ask, let alone beg. They were… well they were true friends. They were beginning mass production of these weapons against the geth, when the turians put forth the motion to expel our people from the Citadel membership. The salarian delegate and the Delatross both appealed to reason, but the Turians were not prepared to plunge the galaxy into another war against a potentially infinite enemy. The asari were convinced, though their reasoning was more emotional, that the machines could be sentient. That's typical asari sentimentality right there, Joachim. At least the turians had a logical fear."

He paused to chuckle at the blind naivety of the asari. Joachim stared ahead, squishing his cigarette out onto Zorah's desk. There was no challenge between them over his rude action. Zorah was unwilling to start something up, and Hoch looked like he was in no condition to do anything.

"Well the two of them overruled the Salarian decision and cancelled our membership to the Citadel," Zorah continued as Hoch went for another cigarette. "By the time the salarians managed to cut through enough red tape, and had organized a non-citadel affiliated volunteer force to assist, it was too late. Billions were dead; the rest of us had fled.

salarian research facilities have never had an external security breach until Naila and I broke in and stole what we needed. The two of us were praised for our work, but we knew better. We knew salarian Special Task Group was shamed by their leader's willingness to abandon billions to their deaths on the false hope that the geth would not attack the rest of the galaxy one day. Quietly they'd looked the other way, told they're guards to take a break and allowed us to take what we needed. Even left rather detailed instructions on how the programming works."

Halid smiled slightly as he remembered the glee he felt when he realized how intentionally helpful the STG had been to them.

"The first offensive came three months after our grab and production." Halid pressed on. "The program worked for about eight galactic hours. We even reached the edges of the Tikkun system. Then the geth collective overcame the attack. After a prolonged battle, the fleet had to retreat.

A decade went by. I got lucky when Naila agreed to be my wife; we focused ourselves on our work. Me, I went back to grunt work, infiltrating turian networks, keeping an eye and ear on the Council. She went to work on a new spin of a very old plan. An improvement upon Salarian plan used centuries ago."

"Uplifting." Joachim guessed correctly, his tone dull.

Zorah smiled as he nodded.

"Yes," he continued for the attentive human sitting before him. "Not your race specifically, but the way we went about it. She knew it would have to be a long term goal. We could not repeat the same mistakes that the salarians allowed the Krogan to make. We had to find a species that was not afraid of war, but was one that at least tried to be peaceful. The species could not split the atom just yet, but was a species always willing to advance.

She presented the plans to the Admiralty Board. It was not the same Admiralty Board that was involved in the first offensive. They weren't technically savvy leaders who saw the value of cheating, so to speak, in return for saving lives. They were militarists plotting out a system by system extermination campaign. Something I was not against, but knew we did not have the numbers or ships to do it. Well, when they heard her proposal, that we should cancel all further attacks on the geth for at least half a century when a species was found, they laughed at us. All of them, except for one."

"Jalina'Calis." Hoch guessed. Again, the Admiral nodded to the Oberst's remark.

"The only surviving original Admiralty Board member at the time of our exile, she survived the Conclave's fury after the first failed offensive," Zorah explained. "She knew what the newly elected militarists were sowing and would not be involved with it. She was our very first supporter.

In the end, the second offensive happened. Like before it worked, and then it didn't. Too many geth ships, too many holes in our defence to cover as the offensive was stretched out wider and wider. They broke through, attacked the civilian fleet. Heavy Fleet responded."

Hoch knew exactly where this was going. He crossed his arms.

"Naila was there on the Heavy Fleet." He breathed, "She was… She was sitting in a communication centre when the cruiser _Balathau_ exploded. I was on the Citadel. She died directing the panicking civilian fleet and coordinating the Heavy Fleets rapid response. I was standing covered in a krogan mercenary's blood as I interrogated and then murdered a batarian operative. Those that were calmed down by her said that there was no quiver of fear in her voice, no panic as she saved half the civilian fleet single handed. She died with the closest thing to serenity anyone has ever reached…"

The words he spoke were like a fist to the gut to him. It was so long ago, but it felt so raw still…

"When the Homefleet limped away and we tallied our dead, the new Admiral's looked on Naila's work with a renewed interest," Halid spoke, his tone bitter. "This was especially true when Jalina made her voyage to activate the Mass Relay in the Sol System after discovering your people. I was called back from the field to work and advocated for your race, and ever since I pretended that I was like her in some way."

Halid trailed off, his fingers laced together as he stared through Joachim, who was now looking at the Admiral with far less contempt then he usually held for the quarian in recent months. He looked almost… sympathetic -the keyword being almost. It wasn't long until Hoch's expression tightened up back into a stern frown.

Zorah shook the thoughts of his first wife and exhaled unsteadily. He hated thinking about it. No measure of peacefulness in Naila last moments brought a moment of comfort to him. Sure, he had married again, and yes, he was in love with his wife; but Naila always stayed with him…

"Let me explain something to you." Zorah said as he finally looked into Joachim's inquisitive stare. "She was a loss to my people, Joachim; she was a loss to yours as well. At the end, she pretty much ran FLEETINOPS… I just worked there. In the intelligence field, she was both Canaris and the late Werhner von Braun. Me? I'm just Halid'Zorah. She could've saved your family. Not me. I get obsessed, I'm emotional. She analyzed and stayed objective no matter what trials she faced. She would have never helped Heydrich to survive the attack on his life."

Halid fell silent as he laced his fingers together.

"Anyways, I became a captain and used what charisma I had left to get elected to an Admiral rank." He spoke up, unsure why he was still speaking. "I had no political aspirations or interests. I did it so that I could see her project through to the very end."

Again he went silent. Biting his lip, the Admiral allowed his eyes to dart across Hoch for any sign of understanding to why he had brought the man to speak to him. There was no sign in the slightest.

"You see, I'm telling you this for a reason." Zorah spoke to the blank stare Joachim was producing. "I want to make peace with you. I'm done lording power over you, Joachim. I want us to be partners from now on. Like we will be as we teach your people. Controlling you has been a foolish action; and I'm sorry for my part in it."

Joachim did not reply, not at first. Still wearing a stony neutral expression that clearly hid his contempt for Zorah, he leaned forward. His eyes narrowed.

"Look at my face closely, Admiral," he said. "Is this the face of someone who gives a _shit_?"

Zorah blinked. Hoch snorted and leaned back into his seat.

"I didn't come here to listen about your sob story about your dead wife, I didn't come here to listen about how fucking stupid your people are to create geth in the first place," the angered Joachim spat out, each word filled with more hate then the last. "No… You see, Admiral. I know my place now. I'm just a glorified serf. Yes… yes I know that that now, I hold no illusions anymore. I fight, and I kill to further your agenda. I am here to take your orders; not one thing more. So... so just go ahead and tell me what you want out of me and then leave me alone."

Pulling on his peaked cap, Joachim collected his Stahlhelm and stood up from his seat. He turned back to look down on the Admiral, his boots clicking together in a state of attention.

Disappointed that this wasn't going as he hoped, Halid stood up as well.

"Rommel has requested you meet with him," the Admiral spoke. "It's both personal and professional matters."

Hoch did a double take; His expression was one of an inability to process what the order had been, like it had been so inane that it was ridiculous to have to personally relay the request. Well it was, the thing was Zorah had expected his story would settle some of their differences. Well it didn't and it left the Admiral looking rather stupid.

As soon as the Oberst got a handle on himself, his confusion predictably turned into sheer anger.

"_Couldn't have relayed that on the field, could you_?" The man breathed, his teeth gritted as he stared down the Admiral. "You just had to screw me out of personally kicking in the teeth of the last resistance of Darmstadt, didn't you? Well fine then. I have to go get the rest of my regiment anyways."

Hoch turned to leave and was at the door before he turned back.

"Might I suggest that you relay all orders to my superior officer from now on, Herr Admiral," The man suggested. "If you need me on a personal admiralty board business, assign another Admiral to me. Just… do yourself a favour and fuck off out of my business from now on."

That said, Hoch left Zorah in a state of self-loathing.

**…..**

* * *

**…..**

"_I cannot believe the nerve of that woman; berating us in front of the children."_

"_Who would willingly give that arrogant thing a translation device? She is completely dreadful."  
_

"_Oh Keelah, I am fat..."_

Hanala was close to having an aneurysm as she led the women and their children down the corridor to the docking bay. This was too good. This was too fucking good. Magda Goebbels could go to sleep knowing that she had scored a major psychological war victory over these ladies.

What the mother's did not seem to appreciate was just how isolated Magda had been since her arrival. She had been locked away in isolation as though she were a criminal. Here she was, captured by strange beings, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away from her home, her children as well. It must have been absolutely terrifying for her. Especially as a woman who had probably never once thought of life outside of the Reich, let alone wondered if life was beyond Earth.

It was likely a small taste to come when 17 million quarians landed on Earth and attempted to settle a new home amongst humans. It now seemed very likely that it would take many years to foster some sort of trust between the races. Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later. So far at least, she could now chalk up Saleb's interaction with Hedda Goebbels as one more example of potential friendships with the other species.

Speaking of Saleb, Hanala could feel her little hand pulling her sleeve. Hanala looked down and found Saleb staring at her with immense curiosity in her expression.

"The humans were nice, but really quiet." Saleb spoke up to her aunt, frowning slightly. "Their mother is _sooo_ mean," she added. "She pulled away the funny human girl so hard from me. Her name is Hedda. The others mostly kept away, but she played with me. She's weird… almost as weird as the monster…"

Hanala nodded, allowing her hand to rub Saleb's head gently before placing her hand on her shoulder.

"Listen niece, if you want to be friends with Hedda Goebbels, or any of the other Goebbels children for that matter, I will not stop you, nor will any of the others." Hanala assured her, her words not just for Saleb, but a warning to the other women as well. Pausing for a moment, she added, "…Just don't you mind her mother too much. Respect what she asks of you, but do not take her abuses too seriously. She's scared."

"Scared?" Saleb repeated. Hanala nodded.

"Extremely scared, Saleb, and being mean… well, that's just how she handles it." Hanala explained to the niece who appeared to understand what she was saying. "Most humans have never seen us before. You will have to expect this fear when we arrive to our new home. Besides, she was taking from her life by Joachim Hoch in order to save her and the children. She wasn't in a good state of mind to consent."

"Big scary monster scared her into coming." Saleb guessed, almost making Hanala laugh until she added, "Why was she mean to Hedda? What did she do?"

The guardian sighed.

"It's just how German mothers are with their children. They are a little more firm about things. She loves Hedda very much, but again, we scared her." She replied. "Still, I'm happy you like Hedda. I guess that the sight of you two having fun must have put something straight up her ass."

There was a sudden gasp from one of the women behind her. It was quickly drowned out by children's laughter. Hanala turned around and found that the women looked shocked by the blatant language. Sighing, Hanala rubbed the back of her neck.

"Right… language... _Shit_."

The children laughed even harder at the addition of the second curse word used in short order. Hanala knew she shouldn't have said that, but watching the mother's faces turned into a wide variety of colours made up for suffering through their incessant chattering. Hanala hid the glee. This time she had meant that.

Hanala turned away from the conversation as she felt her hand being grasped tight by Saleb. Hanala turned to where the child was staring at. Saleb had stopped walking.

Sitting there with his back turned to the group sat a huge human in what appeared to be Wehrmacht feldgrau. His cap was off, his hair relatively long and dishevelled in appearance. He sounded like he was muttering to himself. Ignoring the other parents as they whispered about just who was sitting there, Hanala stepped forward.

She knew exactly who it was.

"_Joachim_?"

His whispering ceased, what little movement in the man vanished for several long seconds. With what sounded to her like a sigh, Joachim Hoch stood up and turned around. Hanala could not help herself; she smiled for him and waited with the group as he wandered over, his attitude suspicious as he looked at the staring onlookers, who looked at him like he was some sort of specimen.

Hanala too had to stare. The dark circles around his eyes, the facial tics, and the inability to remain still… What in the hell was he doing to himself?

Hanala looked down to Saleb to find her moving behind her Aunt as the human stood there looming over Hanala; her fear of Joachim still an ever present source of trouble for the three of them. It was a movement not lost by the mothers, who watched the interaction with great curiosity.

"Joachim," Hanala spoke up brightly for the others. "These are my new friends Kaiah, Jaueu, Bauvari…"

It was clear as day that there was no possible way that Joachim Hoch was at all interested with meeting a bunch of women that he probably never had an intention of meeting again, let alone hold conversation with. He just stood there, swaying slightly, his body twitching as though he hadn't had proper sleep in a week. That probably was the case considering where he was before being here was a warzone.

Something else was clear as well. Joachim would likely never be that charming, kind once one got to know him sort of guy. Not now, not for a long time. Her greatest fear now was that it would perhaps even never get better. Revenge rarely brought peace. It did not matter how many bodies he buried, it would probably never be enough. Even if the men he killed earned their fate or not. It would just never be enough.

It left Hanala with a stomach that felt terrible. The only one who could stop his death spiral to collapse would be Joachim. She could not be there for him -not in the way she wished she could. Her obligation was to Saleb. Joachim was too much of an unpredictable mess to depend on. She would do what she could but that terrible creeping feeling of exorbitant guilt was washing back over her. The memories of Joachim blank stare as he stated words of wisdom that Gerald Langer imparted on him:

_Family comes first. _

And Joachim was not family. Not to the Langer's, Not to the Jarva's. No… Joachim wasn't anyone's family. He couldn't come first for Hanala anymore, no matter how much she wanted it to be a lie.

Blinking, Joachim simply turned his eyes and stared down on Kaiah. It was that intense glare that told Hanala that it was time to back up and let him do what he needed to do.

Kaiah was not blind to the message being presented to her by the head taller human and gripping her son's hand tighter. Noticing she looked ready to flee, Hanala reached out to touch Kaiah's shoulder. The mother turned and noticed Hanala gesturing to Saleb. Kaiah forced herself to smile, and with her free hand touched Saleb, dragging both children away from the human. One by one the rest of the Mothers and children left, leaving Hanala and Joachim staring blankly at each other.

Hanala exhaled as her hand reached out to touch against the bristly full beard that the man had. She allowed her smile to widen slightly.

"Joachim, you look so different with facial hair," She said as she stroked his rough cheek. "Not to mention a proper Heer Oberst."

Hanala got no reply. Joachim winced at the touch and took a step back; his eyes were downcast as he shook his head, unable to look her in the eye as he devoted himself staring at the walkway between the two of them.

"I missed you as well. How are you doing?" Hanala said, trying to press the conversation in order get something, anything out of him.

Still Joachim didn't reply, making the woman frown.

"That well, hey?" Hanala continued, crossing her arms. Her tilted as she added, "Are you using methamphetamines again?"

She had heard the rumors from Zorah that he had been using narcotics as an artificial means to keep himself from collapsing under the strain of his work. A habit apparently started since the Battle of Aguni Lahwa; So now not only was Joachim submitting himself to psychological torture of killing men in response to the Langer's, but he was physically torturing his body as well. This on top of the months of torture he faced only months ago. He had to be reaching his breaking point now.

Damn this conflict and damn Joachim for doing this. He needed help.

"_Yeah_," he finally spoke his confession to her, "it keeps me focused. I don't have to eat and sleep as much, it keeps me pumped up to do the sort of things that I've been doing these past few months. Makes what I do a little easier… Help's… help's me to forget things…"

Hanala winced. She did not want to know what Joachim was doing if it required him to be fried off a high powered amphetamine. He didn't look unnaturally alert. He looked like he was coming down and was in serious need of sleep. As common as drug use may have been with the Wehrmacht when it came to rapid movement ground combat or the nerve wracking urban combat, Hanala could not help shake how wrong it seemed.

Joachim lowered his eyes again. Hanala reached out and took Joachim's hands into hers. He looked up, his expression forming a crooked smile that looked forced for her sake.

"How is being a guardian?" Joachim enquired, not much, but a trace of genuine curiosity was present in his tone.

Hanala could only really shrug.

"It is very difficult," she spoke softly. "Rael… Veyare… I have to find a way to be just as good as they were to Saleb. I don't know how I am taking care of her properly. I don't even know if I'm doing a good job, and besides the help from my mother, I'm doing it alone."

Hanala bounced on the tips of her toes as she looked up to Joachim, her fingers tightening the grip she held onto his hands.

"Think… I don't know, think you could help me?" Hanala inquired smiling prettily for him. "It couldn't be an official joint guardianship… but… but just to have you around? Saleb could use an uncle like you –strong, teach her about the world she'll be living on... You could give your command to Stauffenberg and… We can get people to help you."

Hanala knew she had let the wrong words slip loose before Joachim's face contorted into a look of disgust. He pushed her hands off his. She should have known better.

It wasn't just the wrong words. Joachim Hoch hated some much as a whiff of someone trying to manipulate him, whether it was real or imagined. This time it wasn't imagined. Hanala no longer could stand the thought of Joachim out there on a battlefield he didn't want to be on anymore, let alone out there fighting on the front, continuing to struggle in a war that he himself admitted to be disillusioned with.

"I'm not going back to the _fucking_ hospital!" Joachim nearly exploded at her, making the shorter woman flinch and step back. Seemingly realizing he was scaring her, Joachim stepped back as well, shaking his head, adding, "I'm not going to suffer another fucking round of your psychological examinations. You don't need a doctor to know that I'm utterly _fucked_ in the head."

Joachim shook his head.

"We… we ah… we had this conversation. I have… I have a lot of work ahead of me," Joachim went on, far less annoyed then he had been, replacing his anger with brooding self-loathing. "I would not make a good person to be around for her. Not yet at least. Not when I'm like this... Monsters and children shouldn't mix. I… I shouldn't have been around the Langer children at all. I've always, always been a monster. I do bad things and I never personally pay for it…"

Then there was his other work –his personal war against the special monsters of the National Socialist regime. Hanala felt that these monsters deserved to die. They did not deserve the due process that they refused to grant their millions of victims. Hanala was on Joachim's side when it came to offing those bastards. But did Joachim have to be the only one taking down these bastards? Did he have to be an executioner when it was clear as day that it was starting to affect him so terribly that he needed to use narcotics?

Although her opinion was one of getting other people to complete his work, Hanala dared not to admit her position in fear of sparking more fight from her estranged boyfriend. Instead she stepped forward once again to touch Joachim's forearm. The movement making him look up at last.

"You're not a monster," Hanala reassured him in a whisper. "Sometimes the right thing to do is more terrible at first glance then the wrong thing. These real monsters need to be punished, and they need you putting the fear of your God into them."

Joachim shook his head.

"_He's not my God,_" he muttered lowly.

Hanala decided against praising Joachim for growing past a silly human superstition that she tried her hardest not to mock. Instead she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, her face pressing lightly against his chest. He did not move to embrace him. He stood there stiff as a board. It was as though he were in state of shock. Hanala rolled her head up to look at him. He wasn't even looking down at her. He was staring ahead.

He was in a state of alert.

"Come with me." Hanala whispered, fighting back the urge to tear up in a mixture of frustration and having the lack of power to make him better. "You need to get some sleep and some food. _Please_, just come with me... let me _help_ you."

Again, Joachim would have nothing of this. For the first time, he embraced her, but only just long enough to break her grip and pull her off of him. He was unmoved by the watering of Hanala's eyes as he stepped back.

"No, Hanala." was the only answer he would provide her with. "I have to go back… And I have things I need to do."

Joachim, turned away, collected his peaked cap and helmet, leaving her company without so much as looking back.

He did not pay any attention to the tears he had induced into the suddenly helpless looking Hanala he had left behind in his wake.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Thanks to Magyareagle for betaing.**


	3. The New Handler

**Sorry for the delay. Kinda got stuck.**

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Three: The New Handler May 2nd, 1943**

**…**

Standing on the hardened tarmac, waiting as the shuttle touched down; Admiral Utala'Falan could not help but feel apprehensive about the passenger the fleet shuttle was carrying.

She had heard the horror stories from Rael'Zorah and Alaan'Jarva about how much trouble could come from her new subordinate, Oberst Joachim Hoch, if she did not manage him properly. From what she had learned about him from her fellow Admirals, Joachim was nursing serious antipathy towards quarians in general. It was rightly so, in Utala's opinion. Promises made to him were broken, used and deceived by nearly every quarian he knew, it was little wonder that there was hatred festering in him for quarians.

Hoping to get a better angle about him, Utala called up Hanala'Jarva for her own insight. It was clear as day by her puffy eyes that she had been in a state of tears only moments prior. She could barely quiver out his name as she explained the more personal side of Joachim Hoch. That he was a mentally unstable wreck just waiting to happen. That he needed dangerous narcotics to get through his actions of the past few months. It was clear to her that Joachim Hoch needed help, but would not accept it.

So Utala would do what the other Admirals had failed.

Instead of denying him what he needed, she would oblige him.

Yes, she would treat him like how he wanted to be treated. Like an adult –capable of making his own decisions. There would be no manipulations on her part. If she needed something done, she would make a request or order it. She would not step in to stop him on his personal mission against the National Socialists. She would not encourage him, but she would neither deny him something he considered cathartic, no matter how terrible it seemed. For so long as he worked with her, that would be all that mattered. When he needed her help when the realization of what he was doing finally hit, she would be there for him as well.

Perhaps like a mother comforting a child.

Ultimately, if there had been an upside to all of this, it meant that she would not have much time to devote to thinking about Erwin Rommel.

Rommel was in a state of guilty mourning for his poor wife, Lucie, of whom, Rommel had been quietly seeing another woman on the side. That other woman was Utala. Since her random execution in February, Rommel kept far away from the quarian, keeping her far away so that he could focus on both the war and on his unstable son. Manfred Rommel, apparently was blaming him for what happened. Judging from the cold shoulder she was receiving, it appeared that the Generalfeldmarschall had felt the exact same way.

It wasn't long until he called her into his offices upon his return from Germany after burying his wife. He had been extraordinarily polite about it, but essentially he told her that there was no possible way that he could continue the relationship. Not now, not until he figured out how to overcome the grief he buried for the good of his Afrika operations, and for the family he now found himself back with. She could not imagine how terrible he felt every time Manfred made some comment or another about him being a traitor.

Perhaps it had been for the best. Utala had to leave her posting anyways so that she could begin to work on her colony. With any luck when his personal life settled, once his grief could subside, when he didn't have a war to think about and when he felt better, perhaps then they could start it back up… perhaps…

The large shuttle touched down on the flight pad, its engines humming slower until they came to stop. The doors opened and out jumped the new civilian technicians, and then came the marines who would join the military force protecting the fledgling colony. All of them wore environmental suits; all of them looked up to the vividly blue Libyan sky with wonder. Under an actual sky was a new thing they would have to adjust to as they worked to settle this desert home of theirs.

"It's my pleasure to welcome you to Earth, Major, as well as the rest of you," the Admiral greeted her new staff with a careful introductory smile. "I trust that you have all read your introductory manuals and listened to the audio reports from Admiral Hanala'Jarva; are you ready for a 24 hour day?"

There was a low chuckle from the civilians. Smiling at them, she looked past them to the shuttle. There was still no sign of Joachim Hoch yet. Had he forgotten to come? She would not be surprised if Admiral Hanala'Jarva pulled him aside at the last moment.

Sighing, she turned back to the new additions. All of them, including the civilians now stood in a state of attention.

"Was there a human on board?" She finally inquired.

The civilians murmured lowly at the mention of Joachim Hoch. Stepping forward, the Major came to attention before the Admiral.

"Yes, sir," the Major snapped out to her, a little more disciplined then he probably intended. "He was passed out in the shuttle when we arrived… We didn't want to wake him up…"

As Utala nodded, more clanking off the shuttle caught her attention. It was the shuttle pilot helping an utterly burnt out looking Joachim Hoch off the shuttle. The forty seven new arrivals turned around as their human companion dragged his feet, pushing through the crowd.

Joachim Hoch was a far cry from the man she had met back in January. He was cold and distant, but could at least provide a laugh and a smile, even if it never once met his eyes. Gone were his stylish grey Waffen-SS apparel and his dusty _rauchtarnmuster_ toned battle camouflage jacket. Instead he had traded it in for the far more conservative Heer uniform. Once he had a shadow of a beard, now it was overgrown. He barely looked alive to her.

Without so much as a pause, Hoch pushed the quarian Major out of his way and simply stood there. He was almost hunched over like an old man, his body swaying back and forth, his eyes dulled and half open, though he did rub them hard enough to force them open.

Utala sighed again. He was going to be a lot of work; but considering what her colleagues… her people had cost him, it was work that was not only necessary, but completely owed.

"Welcome to Maur'Sata settlement, Joachim Hoch," Utala offered both her hand and her friendliest of smiles. "Herr Rommel has extended his apologies; he was tied up at the front. He's on his way back to his headquarters by tomorrow morning. We will deliver him to you then by local transport."

Letting go of her hand, Joachim nodded his head, his eyes finally held enough curiosity in them to look around at the vast colony being built before him.

"Admiral Zorah contacted me a few hours ago, Herr Hoch. I have been requested to serve as your handler from now on. I have agreed with him and might I say, I am looking forward to working with you. I trust you will approve of it?"

Joachim's eyes focused long enough to narrow his eyes as he turned back to look at her properly, his arms crossing together.

"Are you going to pull me away from my duties in the Reich?" He asked rather pointedly.

The Admiral shook her head. She knew any other reaction would most likely elicit a rather charged reaction.

"No… I would be more comfortable if you kept up your work," she admitted to him softly. She decided she would not permit herself to be intimidated by the taller, younger man. "There are a lot of… well… bad people who need to be dealt with ah… severely."

Staring at her for several long seconds, Hoch turned away, his head nodding up and down in concurrence with what she was saying. With his attention elsewhere, Falan turned her attention to the new members of her team and silently gestured them to move on about their business. It was an order they happily obliged.

Joachim reached into his pockets and retrieved that beautiful gold cigarette case he held onto since he was apparently a boy himself.

"I won't get everybody… everyday more and more of them are fleeing or joining Heydrich for his protection… they know I'm watching them," he said as he pulled out a cigarette, his words as grim as his skull like expression. "I am merely thinning out their numbers. Eventually they'll return the favour soon enough."

Utala went pale at Joachim grim fatalism. As much as she prepared for his melancholy outlook, she had not prepared for him openly discussing his own mortality like it was the most casual thing he could say to her. Suddenly sniffing as though he had a stuffed nasal cavity, Joachim turned away and examined the building occurring all around him.

"Seems like you've been busy," he said simply, smoking his cigarette.

Utala nodded and stepped towards him, standing quietly at his side. Frankly she was glad to not have to find a way to fill in the gap of conversation after his self-eulogy.

"Yes," she finally spoke, offering him a slight smile. "This settlement will be used to house the twenty to fifty thousand initial citizens on Earth; architects, engineers, labour, soldiers. They will begin the construction of a proper city once they have settled in."

Hoch stared at her quizzically.

"With what building materials, Admiral? The war may be hard place to find material to build a massive new city out here."

For the first time, Hoch actually sounded somewhat interested in query he was making. He looked around; sure enough there was none of what he considered traditional human building supplies. No timber or rebar, no cement, no concrete, nor steel.

"Why, the Sahara Desert of course," Utala spoke as though it was the most obvious thing ever. Noticing Joachim frown, she rubbed her neck, adding, "We are a people who firmly believe in building with as little ecological footprints as we can make. That is to say, we do not need to cut down trees, or use cementing agents in excess. The sand can be melted into super dense glass buildings. We want to leave as little an environmental damage to this planet while we are guests here."

Joachim looked at her incredulously.

"_And those?"_

Utala turned around. Joachim Hoch was pointing out the huge automated perimeter guns pointing out towards the desert. It was the UBV-67 General Defence Gatling Cannons -mass drive weaponry that could tear through any tank and plane that any human ever built, accurate within a centimetre and was effective three kilometres in any direction –across the field or into the sky. This combined with the shielding and the rocket platforms and marines made the colony less of a colony and more like a stronghold.

Considering this was the first official imprint of quarians on earth, it had to be a deep, unconquerable footstep. There could be no display of weakness in the eyes of the soon to be aware human race. With any luck, all of this would be unnecessary and eventually dismantled in a matter of decades. At least that had been the plan. With humans, who really knew?

"It's merely a precaution," was her explanation for the human. "Quarian settlements are going to be extremely strict on how we guard our borders. You must understand, humans in large are still potential threats. For the good of your planet, our technologies must not fall into the wrong hands until they are ready to be introduced. As such we will be emplacing strict guidelines on humans we allow into our borders, and our borders will be defended at all times -with extreme prejudice."

Hoch crossed his arms. The explanation of the quarian attitude to how their settlement would be run was clearly bothering him. It would not matter. It was not as though he would be banned from entering the quarian mandate.

"Would you got to war with the nations that spy on you?""

Falan could not help herself, she laughed gaily at the suggestion that her people would ever be put into the position of actually having to go to war against humanity. Certainly not now in her life time anyway. She subsided her laughter as she noticed how bothered Hoch looked by it.

"Oh no, war would imply that we see the nation that targets us as a genuine threat –not when we have nearly three hundred year technological advancement over your people," she stated quite abruptly, unable to keep the smile off her expression. "However, we will have policies in place to punish the guilty, mark my words, for those guilty of espionage, the punishment will be severe."

Accepting the answer, Joachim simply nodded.

They continued walking. As they moved the rumbling of combustion engines caught their attention. Coming towards them was a plethora of armour moving towards them like a convoy –from heavily uparmoured and upgunned Panzer IV's, turretless Panzerjägers, Panthers, Tigers, heavy trucks towing artillery and stationary direct fire guns. It was enough vehicles to field at least a division.

It amused her that Joachim looked at them almost longingly. Not surprising considering most of his armour was confiscated by Helmuth Weidling for his disobedience in choosing to raze Darmstadt to the ground. Most of his armour was sent east to the front, leaving him mostly infantry and light vehicles. Considering what he had done to Darmstadt, it was almost understandable that the General had punished him like this.

For everyone's sake, she would have to find a way to reign him in when he was called away from his personal missions to participate in conventional warfare

"This is a relay station between the manufacturing plants on Luna to the Afrika Front," she informed him as they paused to watch a full column of Panzer VI Tigers rumble on by them. "We now supply the equipment, armaments and munitions that are necessary to supply the front. Since the war industry fell into the hands of the OKW, they have handed us manuals upon manuals of information on your armaments industry. We are digitizing it and feeding the information into the data storage. The entirety of German weapon production catalogue is ours to construct at will…."

Once again, Joachim was no longer paying attention. His eyes were widened at the behemoth Tank Destroyer rolling behind a Panther. It was huge, sloping fortress of steel with a massive 8.8 centimetre Pak 43 anti-tank gun. It would be an absolutely terrifying thing to go up against in Falan's opinion. From what she had seen of the American war making ability, nothing short of a heavy bombing raid would be able to stop this thing.

"What in the hell is that?" He breathed uncertainly.

"That? Oh, it's a Tiger converted into a Panzerjäger … otherwise known as a Ferdinand," she informed the gaping Heer officer. "The two Tiger contract competitors were Henschel and Ferdinand Porsche. Porsche was somewhat arrogant; he believed his panzer design would win, so he had about a hundred made before Hitler choose the contract winner. He didn't win the contract; as such, his engineers begun to repurpose his design into a behemoth Panzerjäger, or, a better description, a mobile direct fire platform. We liked the design, so we improved upon her. Could you believe these Porsche geniuses designed her without self-defence in mind? She didn't have so much as a hull machine gun for anti-infantry defence!"

Hoch laughed humourlessly as he turned away. Taking it as a cue, Falan led him down the pedestrian route, watching as Joachim rubbed the sweat off his head caused by the heat of the Libyan sun, the rumbling of the Tiger's kicking up dust onto the two of them.

"Anyways, all of this will ease the burden off the German industrial output significantly. Much of northern and eastern Germany's industry has been seized by the Nazis," she pressed on as they pushed through a gathering of engineers chattering about the residence structures they were planning out. "Although they allow the manufactured armaments to reach the front, they keep a good portion of it to keep themselves as armed as we are. They allow the Eastern Wehrmacht forces just enough to hold their grounds against the Bolsheviks, but not enough for Manstein to engage in his offensive. It's becoming more and more likely that it will be pushed to spring 1944 unless we start pushing hard into the industrial heart of the Reich. Before we can even begin to think about seizing Berlin, we need the Ruhr valley back in our hands."

"How much of the Wehrmacht stayed loyal to the Party?"

The question was blunt and a good one.

"A good portion, unfortunately for us, most of the reserve Armies stationed in northern and eastern Germany, the Danish garrison, even troops stationed in western Poland also have been spotted trickling across to shore up defences," she informed him. "Several units have professed their loyalties to the Prussian leadership. They are waging insurgencies in the heart of the Nazi controlled territory."

The news was apparently bad enough to warranting Hoch to reach his cigarettes once again. Falan observed him silently. She would understand the ticks that her new project had. With any luck, her quiet observations now would save her from violent confrontations, whether verbal or physical, in the near future.

"We have not produced a body of the Führer. They want proof that we cannot provide at the moment. They don't care about the extermination programs or other heinous acts the Nazis have committed. They care only about the line of succession, and until Hitler's fate is revealed, they will defend the oath they swore to," She continued on for him. "Soon however we will have the Prussian Crown Prince in a position to demand the oath be sworn to him instead. The moment the Wehrmacht capture the Ruhr and Berlin, he will be in a position to demand such things."

Hoch nodded as he exhaled cigarette smoke. He did not look comforted in the slightest, but it would have to do for the time being. Turning away from the man, she opened the doors to the structure they were standing in front of, a hanger bay dedicated to storage of Luftwaffe planes.

"Here we are," Utala said, closing the hanger door behind them. "This is where the humans we permit into the settlement shall stay until proper residences are in place. Come with me, I'll show you to your quarters." Pausing for a moment, she reached into her pocket to produce a small datapad, offering it to him, she added, "Should you have need for any equipment, feel free to browse and make your requests."

He did not take it from her.

Instead he ashed his cigarette in one hand, the other pulling off his peaked cap. Joachim turned away to look around at the large hanger they stood in. His eyes focused on the five parked dual propeller engine Henschel HS-129 Panzerknacker close air support aircrafts. It was the natural replacement to the terribly aging Junker Ju-87 Stuka.

Joachim stepped away from the Admiral; cigarette between his lips as wandered down to the Jago bombers. Stopping in front of one of them, he pressed his hand against the nose mounted thirty millimetre autocannon. His expression broke into a grim smile. Like a child looking at a brand new toy. It was a peculiar sight to say the least.

"I wanted to serve in the Luftwaffe at one point, you know? I had a few… doubts about going into the Waffen-SS after officer school," he admitted rather distantly, like a spirit. "Langer told me I was too tall for that service. I bet service in the Luftwaffe is probably significantly less… dirty. Shorter too... would have had higher mortality rate…"

Falan frowned. She knew better than to say what was on her mind, other than the clear case of Hoch's newfound death worship. That it sounded like this Langer character had manipulated him into choosing a life that wasn't entirely his choosing, a man who set him down this path of self-revulsion, whether knowingly or not. Hoch may have worshipped his fallen idol, but Falan found what Hanala'Jarva told her about his past extremely troubling.

Joachim turned back as Utala allowed her hand to touch the dazed Oberst's shoulder blade. Once again she offered him a faint smile that made the man somewhat at ease with the physical contact. Her hand rose up and gestured to the aircrafts across the aisle from the close support attack planes. Joachim's eyes widened even wider as he and the woman wandered over to inspect the line of twenty or so sleek turbo jet fighters parked there.

"The Luftwaffe's new toy; that one is the ME-262 interceptor -designed by your aeronautical engineers, tested and perfected by our engineers," She introduced the Oberst to the future powerhouse that would revitalize the ailing Luftwaffe once they were fully shipped. "We delayed her delivery after discovering how slow she was turn and long it took to reach higher elevations under combat stress. We have since compressed her jet engines by thirty percent to ease wind resistance."

Utala turned her and Hoch's attention to the fighter sitting to the ME-262. It looked like an ME-262 in appearance only. This was their attempt at creating ascetically similar military equipment to their new client race. It looked Germanic in appearance only. Under the design was just as sophisticated technology used in their short range fighters used to defend the flight.

For the first time in forty eight years, the quarian military would be devoting resources to waging war inside a planet's atmosphere. The quarian land army was non-existent. It would be very likely that they would need aid from the Wehrmacht to train a sufficient military force. There need to be an army for them as much as there would need to be an exoplanetary-naval force for the Germans.

"The other is the ME-262q Vertical Takeoff and Landing interceptor," she pressed on. "We are waiting for the Luftwaffe to train their pilots before we hand them over the ME-262 to them. The VTOL shall be for our pilots, who will be joining the Luftwaffe if the Soviets and perhaps the west refuse to end the war."

Gesturing for him to follow, Hoch and Falan continued walking down the line of quarian and human atmospheric fighters; eventually talk coming from down the line caught their attention.

Sure enough, a handful of humans had been gathered around the other side of the final jet interceptor. They were sitting there, listening to quarian instructors, who were teaching them the finer points of using the new aircrafts they would take to the skies with. The flight instructor was male. He had to be. Utala had to specifically replace the female instructor because the humans could not take her seriously. It must have been one of the by-products of having a male dominated society. With any luck that would change soon.

As soon as he looked up, the jet fighter instructor went to a state of attention at the sight of the Admiral and the Oberst watching his teachings from afar. Looking back to where their quarian teacher was looking, the Luftwaffe pilots stood up as well and went to attention. It was probably not for her, but for Hoch standing next to her.

Utala turned her gaze to the leader of the new Flight.

"Herr Hauptmann Marseilles," Falan addressed. "I suppose you cannot wait to try her?"

The leader of the flight, rather scrawny, but somewhat dashing, gave the Admiral a wide grin as he nodded. He was Hans-Joachim Marseilles; a leading fighter ace of Jagdgeschwader 27, Herr Rommel's favourite pilot and the first Luftwaffe pilot to volunteer to join DJG-1.

"She's beautiful, Admiral," Hans-Joachim said almost wistfully, earning a laugh from his kameraden. "We'll put her through her paces soon enough. Burning bombers will never look easier."

Nodding, Utala stepped back and allowed the instructor to continue his lessons. The two of them continued down the hanger, past a pair of BF-109g's and a solitary Focke Wulf FW-190

"Why don't you just save us time, cut the bullshit about developing us and design something for us." Joachim suddenly spoke, continuing to stare ahead.

Gone was his mood, back to state of bleak weariness. His snide words only added to her annoyance. It did not take much to revert him back into his state of stubborn pessimism. She exhaled slowly and, passing by three JU-87 Stuka's, they left the hanger bay and moved into the back rooms of the Hanger.

"No," the Admiral replied with as much calm as she could summon. "Joachim, you must understand that your uplifting has to be done differently than the previous one. Last time the salarians simply dumped their entire plethora of information and technology onto the krogan. It worked, but then it because a nightmare."

Joachim turned back, his head tilting slightly. Opening the doors to the human barracks, Utala ushered the giant inside.

"We know much about your species," she spoke with a smile, which she showed off to him as she closed the doors behind them and moved into the Luftwaffe recreation room. "We know you are creative, inquisitive and scientific, and as a species that shares those traits, we find it unconscionable to confine you into a role of dependence… or worse… servitude. We will provide you the tools, we shall provide you with the technology, but it will be primarily up to your people to reach these feats on your own."

Joachim turned to look at her carefully.

"Even if it takes you longer then you would like?"

Utala quirked her lips.

"You are an incredibly ambitious species… when you are not focused on killing each other in record numbers," She stated as fact. "I have faith that you will see the expansion of humanity beyond the relay in your lifetime-"

"Do not delude yourself, nor I Admiral," Joachim growled, cutting her off from her line of thought. "Like it or not, I'd be lucky to see the end of this year… maybe to the end of the decade, let alone the turn of century… the new millennium."

Snorting in disgust, Hoch lowered his head, shaking it back and forth as he ran his hand over the base of his neck.

"_He was right about me,_" He muttered lowly. "_Why is it that, that son of a bitch was the only one to speak to me honestly about my future?"_

Utala tilted her head, trying to understand the words he was muttering. She had no idea who he was talking about. Then again, it wasn't as though he was addressing her. He was talking more to himself. It was like he was punishing himself for something that she had said.

It was clear now to her that this went beyond drug abuse and grief. Hoch was a well-oiled soldier. He had spent most of his youth training to be a soldier, had spent almost four years in every killing field he copula throw himself into. He had witnessed death and took life. Everything and everyone was gone in his eyes. Death was all he had to show for his achievements. He had no business to be in the field.

There was only one reason she would not write him and force him into mental services care. It was because quarians simply did not understand the delicate nature of the human psyche. It would not be long now until Joachim came to her, broken like he had went to Hanala and Admiral Zorah, begging to end his services. The only now was how much blood would be spilled before he got to this point of no return.

"Still," he pressed on, turning his focus back to her, voice and eyes almost filled with a peculiar tone that she could only describe as sadness. "You could spare a lot of blood if you made a proper threat to the world. You could end the war in an hour. Save a lot of mothers, wives and children around the world some grief."

The words hit her in the stomach with a tremendous amount of force. Yes… her people had the technological capability to force a worldwide end to the conflict if they wanted to. Orbital strikes on all side to force the war to finally end would certainly bring about an end to the conflict with the fear they could produce.

She knew better then to put too much thought into what-if's. Policy was in place for a reason. No matter how logical Joachim seemed.

"Again, Joachim, you're failing to understand the difference between guiding and outright manipulation," She said as they walked out of the hall and towards the barracks he was to be situated in. "We will fire the first warning shot. It will likely frighten the masses in the western democracies into ending the war. We cannot assume the same for the Bolsheviks. Ultimately, if they cannot be reasoned with, then they must be brought to their knees by your people, for as long as this militarist Germany exists and Communist Russia exists, there will be a death spiralling struggle between the two powers until one or the other collapses… and as an Admiral, I can assure you, we will never resort to total destruction of the Russian people via orbital bombardment. A threat must have teeth to back the demand, or else it's just bluster."

Hoch clearly did not like the answer, but he nodded grimly as the mess created by Operation Barbarossa finally started to really hit home to him. As they stopped in front of Joachim's room. Utala once again reached out to touch his shoulder. Joachim looked up, although shaky from sleep deprivation and narcotic withdrawal, he managed to smile thinly.

"Well… I think I am going to like you, Admiral Falan," He admitted to her, his tone unable to match the smile. "You talk straight. You're certainly a step up from Admiral Zorah and Jarva… ah… Alaan'Jarva… well…and Hanala, I guess. Pack of habitual liars and cowards… all of them. I'm tired of dealing with them… Not sure if I can apply feeling misanthropic towards quarians, but it… it's the only word I have for your people…"

Utala smiled weakly. Joachim's sake and her own, she would forget that he had said that to her. He was tired and annoyed and extremely isolated. With luck and her guiding, perhaps he would overcome it in time.

"Well, I can assure you, I have no time to use you," She swore to him, her hand squeezing his forearm. "I Tried it once before on you in January and… well.. it made me feel sick. I'd like to think that I am capable of learning from my mistakes."

Joachim huffed out a harsh chuckle as he slowly nodded. Utala gestured towards the doorway.

"Now go on, get some sleep. I think you need it." She politely requested.

Turning back to the doorway, Joachim nodded in concurrence as went to finally get some proper sleep in him.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**You know what? I have waited to get to this point for a long… long time now. Not just for Hoch disillusioned, or Nazi killing. At long last I finally get to write about the NEAT things in the German arsenal. *Rubs hands together.* Oh the fun we'll have with them...  
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**Sorry for the lack of other scenes. I tried to do it, but this got so long that it dwarfed everything else and would mean I would be releasing another long chapter. I am trying to keep it below 8000 words a chapter.**

'**Fun' Nazi trivia of the week: Which Nazi technically had a role in a famous Hollywood film?**

**Answer: Head of the Party Chancellery and personal secretary to the Führer, Martin Bormann in the 1971 classic **_**'Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.' **_

**Under the guise of Alberto Minoleta of Paraguay, he was the fraudulent winner of the last golden ticket! It's clear as day that it was a Fourth Reich plot to change the secret recipe to the chocolate so that included mind altering fascism loving drugs concocted by the runaway Mengele! **

**Ok… enough of that… before I write a fanfiction about it….  
**

**Thanks for reading. Next chapter features stuff and things you will like… but those stuff and things will only happen if you are kind enough to actively participate in the story!**


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